Heart of My Soul
by Xanthia Morgan
Summary: Ardeth, thinking he's the victim of an arranged marriage, finds someone he never knew he needed.
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One – An Arranged Marriage  
  
Khay Alden slammed the books she was supposed to be cataloguing onto the table top with a loud bang. With a great sigh of frustration she swept her hair out of her eyes and glared at the leather bound titles before her.  
  
"If I had known you hated cataloguing so much I'd have asked you to translate the major domo's stock inventory instead." The female voice was colored with laughter and Khay turned to her employer with a wry grin.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mrs. O'Connell. I've got a lot on my mind and I'm afraid I rather took it out on these old fellows."  
  
Evy O'Connell did laugh at that. "That's quite alright," she informed her secretary. "It wouldn't be the first time these tomes have borne the brunt of a female's need to vent some frustration. Believe me!" Her knowing smile made Khay laugh.  
  
"I take it you've done some 'cataloguing' of your own?" she asked, stressing the word.  
  
Evy nodded sagely. "Oh, yes. More times than I care to admit. I've found, however, that it's much better to talk to a willing ear than those dusty old books. I'd be happy to listen."  
  
Khay studied her boss. She was sweet and kind and possessed the kind of strength of character that Khay felt she herself lacked. She would like to talk to someone but she wasn't sure the curator of the British Museum would understand her problem. After all, Evelyn O'Connell was married with a child and a career. Khay was a spinster at twenty-five and had a job. Not that she didn't dream of doing something wonderful with her life someday. It was just that she didn't feel her future would be pinned down to this place, to England. She'd always felt she belonged somewhere else. She doubted that Evelyn O'Connell could understand that. The curator was always traveling hither and yon and couldn't possibly know the restlessness that haunted Khay in the dark of the night. As for what Khay had been through over the weekend, she wasn't sure anyone could understand that.  
  
"You'd be surprised," Evy said softly, as if she'd read Khay's thoughts.  
  
Khay was startled. "What? How did you know . . .?"  
  
"The look on your face. It was as if no one in the world would understand what you were going through."  
  
Khay stared at Evy for a moment, then grinned. "Maybe you will understand," she said finally. Evy smiled and pulled out a chair next to Khay. She folded her hands in her lap and waited while her secretary sat down. After a moment's awkward silence, Khay spoke.  
  
"Have your parents ever done something so outrageous you thought they'd lost their minds?"

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Ardeth Bey stared at the group of elders surrounding him. He felt trapped by their gazes, by the power they held over him simply by virtue of their age and wisdom. Still, he could not believe what he had just heard. "You have done what?" he asked, his politeness a mask for the rage that threatened to build within him.  
  
"We have found you a wife," Safiya said very slowly as if she were addressing a child.  
  
Ardeth dipped his head once to acknowledge that he heard her. He became even more polite. "And what prompted this action, may I ask?"  
  
Safiya cringed inwardly. This cold courtesy was a clear danger sign and she wasn't sure the other elders knew the fury it portended.  
  
"We have waited patiently for you find a wife of your own choosing. It was time to take steps of our own." It was Abbud, Ardeth's uncle, who spoke this time.  
  
The Med-jai warrior inclined his chin, his eyes flashed. "I was not aware that I was required to take another wife," he said quietly. "I have found an heir. I have fulfilled my obligation to the tribe."  
  
There was a stony silence in the council chamber. Finally, the eldest of them all stood and approached his king. "It is not your obligation that concerns us, my child," Muzakir said quietly. "It is your heart. You have mourned Iman as is right but you must continue with your life." He put up a finger, silencing the protest that he could see forming on Ardeth's lips. "We have seen your brother and his wife. We have seen how you watch them together. It is clear to all that your heart cries out for someone. We have only done as we see fit. We do not like to see you hurting. Now that you have found that part of your soul that was missing, it is time to find your heart once again."  
  
"And where do you think that might that be?" Ardeth asked, the sarcasm he tried to keep veiled in deference to their status creeping into his tone.  
  
The elders looked at each other, then at Ardeth. It was Safiya who responded to their unspoken request. "England."

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"And that's it. Do you think they've lost their minds?" Khay leaned in close to Evy and laid a hand on her knee, silently begging her to understand.  
  
Evy put an arm around her young friend, for she did consider Khay a friend, and hugged her quickly. "I think it's impossible to decide until you've learned all there is to learn. I mean, after all, it may turn out to be wonderful."  
  
Khay groaned. "But this is medieval! I want to make my own choices in life! This goes against everything I believe in."  
  
"I'm not saying they're right, but your parents have their reasons. Gosh, that sounds so like a mother, doesn't it?" Evy grinned and shook her head at herself. "Now come with me. I've got something to show you." Khay followed her down the hall and Evy smirked to herself. Changing the subject always worked. "I've just received some interesting artifacts from Egypt. The hieroglyphics are completely intact! Would you like to have a go at figuring them out?"  
  
Khay gave her a mock frown. "It's not more stock inventory, is it?" They both laughed. Some months ago the museum had received several elaborately marked parchments that were in wonderful condition. They thought they been privy to a great find but discovered to their dismay that the ornate scrolls belonged to a rather fastidious steward of one of the lesser pharaohs who had insisted on listing every piece of stock in the kingdom. They'd spent hours translating chicken populations and goat declines, until they were all trying to foist the tedious job off on someone else. It was now the museum employees' private joke.  
  
"No. It's not that. Thank God." Evy's grin was contagious and Khay returned it in full. "It was sent to me by a friend. It concerns a place called Hamunaptra."  
  
Khay gasped. "The City of the Dead?" she asked, shocked to her core.  
  
"Yes!" declared Evy, somewhat surprised her very English secretary had heard of it. "Only these are tablets which describe, in detail, the effects of the curses that guard the city. It's very interesting in an extremely gruesome way! I think the translation will be a deterrent to anyone stupid enough to try and find it."  
  
"The City of the Dead doesn't exist," Khay stated firmly.  
  
Evy turned to face her and looked down the hall, making sure they were alone. "It exists. Trust me," she whispered conspiratorially. "And I intend to make sure that no one ever tries to find it again."  
  
Together they walked down the stairs and into Evy's large office. She went to a side table where a large black cloth was covering what looked to be several small squares. When the cloth was lifted, the squares were revealed to be four equal sized stone tablets. They were made of black marble and hieroglyphics covered every inch of them. Khay breathed out in surprise and she reached out her fingers to touch the ancient markings.  
  
"This isn't Egyptian," she breathed.


	2. Heart 2

Chapter Two – Questions  
  
Bashaar evaded yet another potentially fatal blow from his friend's blunt scimitar and barely managed to block the brutal swipe that sent shocks of tingling pain down his arm as it connected. Ardeth's face was a hardened mask of grim concentration as he focused on taking down the last man who stood in his way. Training situations had always been this way. Pit one man against many to hone his skills. Six of Ardeth's warriors now sat on the sidelines. Winded and sore, they watched as their leader tried again and again to "kill" their captain.  
  
Sweat poured off the two fighters, who had long abandoned their robes to the heat of the day, giving their bodies the sheen of polished bronze. Their bare torsos moved in a poetic symphony of muscle and bone as they tested and pushed each other to the maximum of their endurance. The blood- red tattoo that claimed vengeance for the murder of his wife and child burned bright against Ardeth's skin, which was darker than usual from time spent training in the sun. Four thin scars that were still pink with newness showed pale against his chest and abdomen, their presence a reminder of the last time he faced death and came away victorious. They joined the other scars that told tales of the battles this warrior had faced.  
  
The Med-jai captain also showed signs of old scars. He was almost the perfect match for his leader in battle. They were alike in skill and strength, size and endurance. Usually their battles ended in draws with both men giving up when they were too exhausted to continue. Today, however, Bashaar saw the rage that burned in his leader's eyes and knew that the fight would be to the death, so to speak. He felt sorry for the person Ardeth was so angry with and wondered if he himself wouldn't be bruised beyond recognition in the morning. He blocked another stinging blow and feinted to one side, trying to throw Ardeth off balance, only to find himself off balance from the force of Ardeth's parrying thrust. With a grunt, Bashaar fell on his back in the dirt, the dull blade of Ardeth's weapon tight against his throat.  
  
With wide eyes Bashaar watched the battle fury spark in his commander's eyes and felt a slight prickling of fear. Never, in all their mock battles, had Ardeth lost his control but it looked as if he was dangerously close to doing just that. Cold dread threatened in his stomach and he gave a brief thought of condolence to all those whose last view of this earth had been that icy, unflinching gaze. It was with no small measure of relief that Bashaar saw Ardeth heave a great sigh and lower his blade.  
  
The small fighting ring resounded with cheers and Ardeth reached down his hand to help his captain up. Bashaar clapped him on the back and threw a companionable arm over Ardeth's shoulder. "Would you care to tell me what that was all about?" he asked lightly.  
  
Ardeth's eyes met his, the cold fury replaced by a look of sincere contrition. "I am very sorry, my friend. I was . . . distracted and let it rule my actions. Forgive me."  
  
Bashaar laughed. "If that was distracted, I would hate to see you when you were concentrating."  
  
His leader gave a snort of amusement and reached for the towel being held out for him with a nod of thanks. Bashaar took a towel as well and grinned at Ardeth with his eyebrows raised mischievously. "Let's go swimming."

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"No, Rick, I mean it! There's something strange about Khay." Evy spoke quietly into the telephone receiver even though she was alone in her office.  
  
"Now, honey. I'm sure you're just imaging things. It's not inconceivable that she's heard of Hamunaptra and as for knowing the tablets weren't Egyptian, you've been teaching her! Of course with you for a teacher she'd know the difference between Egyptian hieroglyphics and something else."  
  
Evy chewed on a manicured fingernail. "I don't know . . ."  
  
"Look, I'm sure it's nothing, but if you're so interested, just ask her. Now I've gotta go. I'll see you at home in time for dinner."  
  
The click on the other end told her that her husband had indeed gone. She gave a groan of frustration and put the receiver down.  
  
Evy sat for a few moments thinking about her secretary. When the O'Connell's had returned from Egypt, Evy expected the museum to be in a complete dither. After all, half the place had burned down and the other half was almost destroyed. She was dreading the inevitable questions about her absence and the chaos that ensued but when she returned to the museum, everything was humming smoothly. Workers were repairing the damage, masons were rebuilding the walls. Everyone asked her how her stay abroad was and said how they hoped her family was doing well after their sudden loss. Confused, Evy simply gave short, polite responses and retreated to her office. It was only after a few days of subtle questioning that she found out that Khay had taken care of everything.  
  
The fire had been explained as a formaldehyde leak ignited by a careless watchman's cigarette. The bullet holes had been caused by a cache of old ammunition that had been set off by the heat. Her absence had been due to a sudden death in the family abroad. She had questioned Khay about all these things and been satisfied at the time with her answers. The chemical leak was obvious, Khay had explained, due to the smell and location. The bullet holes, why hadn't they been worried about those old stores of artillery for years? And what else but a death in the family could send Evelyn O'Connell off so unexpectedly. Relieved, Evy complemented her on her deductive reasoning and was so relieved that no one had any idea behind the real reason for the situation that the young woman's explanation had been taken at face value. She'd not thought beyond that point until now.  
  
Now there was a different question - how had she known that the ancient tablets weren't Egyptian? It was true, Evy had been teaching Khay how to read hieroglyphics, but all along she'd felt that Khay was only humoring her. She'd long had the feeling that Khay knew more about ancient Egypt than she let on. And now this. Evy now had more questions than answers and decided the time had come to find out a little more about Khay Alden.  
  
For starters, how was it that her shy secretary who'd never been outside the country in her life had recognized the language of the Med-jai, a people who weren't even supposed to exist?

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The cool water felt wonderful to the two overheated warriors. They floated in peace in the small pool of clear water that they had claimed for their own when they were eight years old. For a long time, neither spoke, enjoying the water and shade and the light spray put out by the small waterfall at the pool's edge. Bashaar waited patiently. He knew that Ardeth would talk about what was bothering him soon. It was always so. This had always been the place where they shared their secrets. It had been true for them as boys and was true for them as adults. When Ardeth started talking, Bashaar smiled under the water. Some things never changed.  
  
"The elders have chosen me a wife."  
  
Bashaar's eyebrows rose slightly. He, personally, was surprised the council hadn't done it a long time ago. "Who is it?"  
  
"Some woman in England of all places. Her father is one of the Med-jai who have watched the outside. Nadhir Alaa' al Din is his name."  
  
"I have heard of him," Bashaar said eagerly. "He is still remembered here in the city for his sacrifice in leaving to protect the outside places."  
  
Ardeth made a sound of disgust. "I do not care who he is. I do not want to marry again. I do not want another wife."  
  
His friend nodded. "Ah. I see. Well, then, why do you not tell the elders that you refuse and be done with it?"  
  
"I tried!" Ardeth cried in despair, sounding very young to Bashaar's ears. "But Muzakir had a vision that led them to this decision. They say they are concerned for my heart. They say that I am lonely and I should find another to fill my life. Well, I am not lonely!"  
  
"No," Bashaar agreed with bubbly enthusiasm. "You are not lonely at all. You simply spend every possible moment you feel you can get away with in the desert with your warriors and your horse, leaving your daughter to the company of many who love her but who cannot take the place of her father in her heart."  
  
Ardeth turned on him. "That does not make me lonely! And there has been much work to do in the City of the Dead. There is always trouble and it is my responsibility to see to it!"  
  
"And the rest of us are only there to keep you company?" Bashaar got very quiet. So quiet that Ardeth had to strain to hear him. "I think the council made a wise choice. If you cannot choose your own wife, they are right to choose one for you. Think on this my friend. I have seen the haunted look in your eyes when you watch other couples. I have seen the way you avert your gaze when the O'Connells are together. You are not lonely, my friend. You are desolate. And the elders are not the only ones who fear for your heart." With that, Bashaar heaved himself out of the water and walked away, leaving his king alone with his thoughts.

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The museum was dark, having long since closed to the public. It was with some trepidation that Evy spied the light under the library door. She peered in and discovered Khay high on a ladder putting away the books she'd been cataloguing earlier. From her vantage point, Evy looked carefully at the woman she was now beginning to mistrust.  
  
Some of Khay's dark hair had escaped its' tight bun and hung straight against her shoulders. Her slightly plump figure lent her an air of studious innocence. Her daily outfit of unfashionably long skirts and sensible shoes gave her the look of a spinster librarian.  
  
"There but for the grace of God...." Evy thought suddenly. She shook off the thought and continued her observation.  
  
The library was stuffy and Evy could see beads of perspiration on Khay's forehead as she hefted the heavy books onto the shelves. Although she could only see her from the waist down and the neck up, she was certain Khay was wearing one the dark long-sleeved, lace-cuffed blouses she always wore. It keeps the ink off my wrists, Evy had heard her tell someone once and Evy couldn't remember ever seeing her without one on. With a glance, she looked down at the long sleeved blouse she herself had taken to wearing to work.  
  
It wouldn't do to have her new tattoos exposed for the world to see. Not yet. It was with some surprise that Evy noticed Khay's sleeves rolled up as she descended the ladder.  
  
"I'll talk with her now," Evy decided. "It's just the two of us. And if she's not as harmless as she looks, I'll deal with that." With a toss of her head and a tug on her blouse, Evelyn O'Connell prepared to confront her secretary. The tap of footsteps in the adjacent hall changed her mind and instinct sent her scurrying into a dark alcove. She saw only the shadow of a large, cloaked figure before the door to the library shut and she was alone in the hall. Body trembling, she crept to the door and put her ear against the crack.  
  
"She knows of Hamunaptra. I heard her speak of it myself. And she has in her office tablets in the ancient language."  
  
It was Khay talking but her speech patterns were different. It reminded Evy of someone but she couldn't put her finger on it. She closed her eyes and willed herself to hear better.  
  
"What of the tablets?" A man's voice carried through the room.  
  
"They speak only of the curses but if she can get those . . . "  
  
"She can get others." The man finished Khay's sentence. A deathly silence ensued. Finally, the man spoke. "Watch her. See what she knows. I will make the proper contacts and see what we should do."  
  
Evy had heard enough. She was going to creep back down the hall and into her office and call Rick. She turned in time to see her husband come down the hall.  
  
"Evy! I was worried." His deep voice echoed down the long hall.  
  
Evy used every sign she could think of for him to be quiet but he just wasn't getting it.  
  
"What's wrong? Locked out of the library again?" Rick was almost to the door. "Here let me get it for you."  
  
Before she could stop him he wrenched open the door. Evy stumbled against him when her support gave way and she tumbled into the library. She could see immediately that Khay was alone.  
  
"Mrs. O'Connell! Is something the matter?"  
  
"I want to know who you were just talking to, Khay."  
  
Khay's brown eyes widened. "I don't know what you mean!" she said innocently.  
  
Evy's own eyes narrowed. "I heard you."  
  
Rick looked from one to the other. "Uh, did I miss something?"  
  
"Quiet, Rick. Who was just in here?" The two women stared at each other, neither willing to back down.  
  
Finally, Khay managed a shaky laugh. "I was just talking to myself. I do that when I'm alone sometimes."  
  
"I know what I heard." Evelyn O'Connell was quiet and determined. She continued to stare at her secretary, silently asserting her authority.  
  
Khay's hand rose to her throat in a nervous gesture. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."  
  
But Evy didn't answer. She was staring at the pointed tattoo on Khay's wrist.  
  
"Who are you?" she breathed.  
  
"My daughter." A tall, black-garbed man detached himself from behind the bookcases. Despite the modern suit, it was obvious that he was Med-jai. The proud bearing and facial tattoos were a dead giveaway. "I must ask that you give the stone tablets in your office to us. They do not belong here."  
  
Rick held out his hands, a gesture of peace. "I'm afraid they do. They were sent to us for safekeeping."  
  
"By whom?" The strange man demanded, he did not ask.  
  
Evy pulled up her sleeves, exposing her own marks. "By your king." 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three – Reunions  
  
"What is that, Babu?" Azizah asked excitedly, pointing at the slim, gray figures cresting the water.  
  
"Those are dolphins, ameerah. Are they not beautiful?"  
  
"Oh, yes, Babu! They are lovely fish."  
  
Ardeth chuckled and ruffled his daughter's hair. "They are not fish, habibah. They are mammals."  
  
Azizah's face wrinkled into a delicate frown. "Mammals? Like a horse?"  
  
"Just so. Only they live in the water." Ardeth waited a moment while his five-year-old digested this. Finally, she nodded. "They are graceful, like a horse, Babu. It is fitting that they are not fish." Ardeth laughed. He couldn't help himself. Her reasoning astounded him sometimes and he never failed to be endeared by it.  
  
The people around them looked up his laughter. All of them were Europeans and it was hard pressed for them not to stare at the exotically handsome man and his beautiful child as they stood by the railing together, speaking in the melodic language of their people. The silver symbols woven into Ardeth's robes caught the sunlight, sending thousands of prism-like starbursts bouncing off the deck. Azizah's white dress caught the prisms and reflected them into her bright, dark eyes. They were a most striking pair and totally oblivious to the stares of those around them. Well, not entirely. Ardeth was aware of the scrutiny but ignored it. He was used to being stared at in Cairo by foreigners. Why should it be any different here where he was the outsider. He mentally shrugged off the curious looks and turned his entire attention to his daughter who was looking up him with a question in her eyes.  
  
"Babu, why are we going to England?" she asked, surprisingly, for the first time since they'd left home.  
  
"We are going to visit the O'Connells, habibah."  
  
Azizah squinted up at her father and he knew immediately that she didn't believe a word of it. "Is that all?" she wondered suspiciously.  
  
Ardeth looked away, not ready for this discussion. "Look, Azizah! I see more dolphins." A quick glance down showed him his distraction didn't work. Sighing, he scooped his child up in his arms and carried down the walkway, putting some distance between themselves and any curious onlookers, not that they would understand their language anyway, it was just that he wanted the illusion of privacy. "Why do you believe we are going to England?" he asked her when they were truly alone.  
  
"Well . . . Grandmother said we are going to England to bring home a new queen. Is that true?"  
  
Her father took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So much for trying to deceive her. "That is what the council of elders wishes for me to do. They wish for me to marry a woman who lives there."  
  
"Is she nice?" Azizah wanted to know.  
  
"I do not know, ameerah. I have never met her."  
  
Azizah frowned, looking very much like her father when she did. "They wish you to marry a woman you have never met? Have never even seen?"  
  
He nodded. He could practically hear his daughter thinking and didn't want to disturb whatever conclusion she might come to, a conclusion he couldn't wait to hear. "I think we must meet her and decide for ourselves," she said after several moments. "I would not want us to have a new queen unless she is the right one for us." Ardeth hugged Azizah tightly. She had echoed his very feelings and the way she included herself in the bargain made his heart sing. She was wise beyond her years, this child of his. She knew that by taking some of the responsibility upon herself, she was sparing her father the brunt of the decision-making. Azizah knew he would not marry anyone she did not approve of.  
  
"I will make certain she is right for us, habibah. If she is not, we will wait until we find someone who is. Is that acceptable to you?" Azizah looked into her father's eyes and saw the indecision and confusion buried there. She knew her father needed her help in this and she would do everything in her slight power to make it all right. She nodded and held out her hand. Ardeth grasped it in the handshake of the Med-jai and together they watched the sun set over the horizon that just might hold their future.

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"So you are one of the Med-jai Ardeth told us about. The ones who live outside Egypt."  
  
The foursome was seated around a low table in Evy's office. Tea had been brewed and poured and the four stone tablets were laid out before them.  
  
"Yes, that is so," Khay's father confirmed. "There have been Med-jai guarding the outside world for centuries. My grandfather made England his home, and my father was born and raised here but returned to the desert upon reaching manhood. I was born in the desert but upon a visit here I met Khay's mother and decided to stay." His cultured voice carried no hint of the accented English of the desert people. "The Med-jai of the outside tribes have kept our heritage through our customs and our names, but we have also adapted to the cultures of the places where we serve."  
  
"But your names aren't Arabic," Evy frowned, puzzled. "I mean, Ned and Khay Alden are quite properly English."  
  
The Med-jai laughed lightly. "That is part of our assimilation. Alden is the name I chose for my family when we first came here. Were we to return to the desert, we would revert to our traditional names."  
  
Evy looked at Khay with a smile. "What is your name? I mean, your real name."  
  
Khay smiled back. "Khayriyyah Alaa' al Din. It's quite the mouthful, I'm afraid."  
  
"It's lovely," Evy assured her.  
  
"Yeah, real nice, but what I want to know is how come you guys didn't know about us? About Evy protecting the tablets?" Rick leaned forward. He was still a little suspicious. Alden didn't blame him.  
  
He smiled ruefully. "Alas, some things are not passed on from place to place as they should be. We knew that the attack on the museum was the work of Imhotep's cult. And we knew that you were somehow involved. But that is all we knew. No one informed us that you, O'Connell, were Med-jai. Nor did anyone see fit to tell us about your knowledge of us."  
  
Rick shook his head. "I don't get it. I thought you guys were all knowing and stuff." He raised his hands, emphasizing the 'all knowing' with a shake of his fingers.  
  
Ned Alden bowed his head. "In the last decade or so, there has been a lack of communication between the outside tribes and the Med-jai. We have, however, recently taken steps to overcome that obstacle."  
  
"Well, you guys had better figure something out. This 'lack of communication' thing could get somebody killed. And that somebody usually turns out to be my wife."  
  
"Really, Rick," Evy sighed dramatically, "you over exaggerate!" She leaned toward her guests. "Don't mind him. He's always like this."  
  
Rick snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Right."  
  
Ned Alden smiled at the couple and stood up. "We should leave. It is getting late and we have to work in the morning."  
  
"Yes, and I want to be here on time. I wouldn't want my boss to think I was shirking."  
  
Khay grinned at Evy and Evy grinned back. "I'll see you in the morning, Khay."  
  
"Uh, no, actually, you won't be in tomorrow."  
  
Evy turned to her husband. "What do you mean? Of course I'll be in. Why wouldn't I be? I have no plans for tomorrow."  
  
"That's because you didn't come home for dinner and hear my news." A hint of a smile played at the corners of Rick's mouth.  
  
Evy narrowed her eyes. "What news?"  
  
"We have to be at the docks tomorrow morning at 10:00."  
  
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"Because if we're not there to pick Ardeth up he's gonna have to find another way to our house and you know how much he hates riding the bus."  
  
It took a moment for the information to sink in. But when it did, Evy lit up with delight. "He's coming here?!" she squealed. "Tomorrow? Oh, Rick, that's wonderful!" She launched herself into her husband's arms, forgetting about their company for a moment. When she remembered herself, she turned to Khay and Mr. Alden. "I'm sorry, Khay but I will be out tomorrow. . ." she stopped speaking when she realized that Khay was gone. She gave a puzzled look at Mr. Alden who said nothing, only bowed politely and took his leave.  
  
"Goodness!" she exclaimed. "Was it something I said?"  
  
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The docks were teeming with people. Family and friends had come to pick up relatives, cargo was being unloaded, stevedores were winding their way among the bustling crowd. The decks of the Moroccan Star were crowded as well, as the passengers milled about the railing, searching for familiar faces in the crowd.  
  
Ardeth stood on the upper deck and surveyed the swarms of people at dockside, his eyes searching for the familiar faces of his brother and his wife.  
  
"So many people!" Azizah exclaimed as she hugged her father's knees. He looked down and found her with her face buried in his robes. He kneeled down beside her. "You are frightened, ameerah?" he asked gently. Azizah nodded her head and raised wide eyes to her father. "Is it unseemly of me to be afraid, Babu?" she wondered, a slight hitch in her voice. "I know that a Med-jai warrior is never afraid and I do not want to bring dishonor to us."  
  
Ardeth gave his little daughter a gentle smile. "You are not yet a warrior, habibah. Therefore it is alright to be afraid."  
  
Azizah's eyes widened a little more. "It is?"  
  
"Of course! Now, tell what it is that frightens you and we will see what we can do to make it better."  
  
She looked around to make sure they were relatively alone before speaking. "The people. There are so many I am afraid I will lose you." Ardeth's heart lurched at the sight of the tears threatening. "Well then," he assured her. "We will have to make certain that you do not lose me." And with that he picked her up in his arms and set her on his shoulder.  
  
Azizah squealed with delight. "Babu!"  
  
Ardeth laughed. "Now you will not lose me in the crowd for you are taller than everyone else here." His matter-of-fact attitude calmed her. It made sense after all. Now that she was head and shoulders above the throng, she would surely not lose sight of her father. "However, now that you are up there, you must look for your Uncle O'Connell and Aunt Evy."  
  
Azizah shaded her eyes and searched the crowd as Ardeth made his way down to the gangplank. He'd already seen Rick, their connection making him obvious even among hundreds of other people.  
  
"Do you see him?" Evy asked, relying on Rick's height to find Ardeth. As if drawn to an unseen beacon, Rick's eyes had gone to the upper deck as soon as he'd been able to spy the ship approaching. Even from a distance, he had known that his brother stood there. He knew that Ardeth could sense him as well. When the ship finally docked, he nudged Evy and pointed up. "There."  
  
"I don't see . . ." she began then stopped as a white clad figure suddenly surged up above the other people's heads and settled on a tall dark-clad shoulder. "Azizah!" she yelled, waving. "Oh, Rick he brought Azizah!" Rick O'Connell simply stood back and watched his wife jump up and down waving her arms and yelling. He saw Ardeth's hand go up in greeting and Azizah wave back with just as much enthusiasm.  
  
"UncleO'ConnellUncleO'ConnellUncleO'Connell!!" Azizah cried out joyfully as she launched herself off her father's shoulder and into Rick's arms. Rick lifted her high over his head. "Hey, Trouble, how've ya been?" Azizah giggled at his pet name for her and punched him on the arm. Rick tossed her once into the air then let her down to launch a similar attack on Evy. He straightened and looked into the eyes of his brother for the first time in almost a year.  
  
The two men faced each and said nothing. They stood still, opposite sides of the pyramid, oblivious to everything around them. One pale, one tanned. One clean-shaven, one bearded. One with light eyes, one with dark. They were East and West yet their souls were alike; twin sons of different mothers. Finally, the silence said it's peace and they smiled together, each raising his arms to embrace his brother.  
  
"You are well," Ardeth observed, holding Rick at arm's length and studying him closely.  
  
"And you are troubled. What's up?"  
  
Ardeth gave an imperceptible shake of his head and Rick understood what it meant without words being spoken. He simply nodded in return and put an arm over the Med-jai king's shoulders. Evy turned to them both, a beaming smile on her face. She took Ardeth in her arms and hugged him tight. "It's so good to see you! It's been too long."  
  
Ardeth nodded against her hair. "It has," he agreed, tightening his embrace causing Evy to whoof out a protest. He laughed and released her, holding out his hand for Azizah. With a wry grin he noticed that he'd already been replaced. She was now firmly wrapped in O'Connell's arms and grinning at him.  
  
Evy saw his predicament and took the hand he'd offered to his daughter. "He has that effect on women," she said slyly. Ardeth only grunted and she laughed and they headed out of the crowd and into the surrounding street.  
  
"Allah, but I've missed them!" he thought as he looked down into Evy's bright face and then at Rick's grinning profile. "They are truly my family." Aloud he wondered, "Where is Alex?"  
  
"The Med-jai junior is in school, much to his dismay. He had a big test today and we, being the mean, evil parents we are, refused to let him skip school and miss it." Rick's tone was unmistakably that of a parent.  
  
"What he's not saying," Evy continued for him, "is that Alex didn't study for the test and we weren't going to let him get away with skipping it for that reason. Unfortunately, this is one of those lessons he's got to learn the hard way. A failing grade is a good incentive for better work especially when one's summer holiday visit to Egypt depends on passing the class."  
  
Ardeth nodded wisely. "I understand. You have done the right thing. Perhaps I could have a word with him later about this?" He asked their permission although he would have the talk with Alex regardless of their answer. They knew it too, so they both assented. The heir to the Med-jai throne could not be an idiot.  
  
"Do we need to get your luggage?" Evy asked as they got further from the dock.  
  
"I've already arranged for it to be delivered," Rick offered. "Ned and his. . ." but Rick didn't finish. A small group of businessmen was blocking their way. "Excuse us. Can we get by please?"  
  
The man closest to them turned. Every inch the upper-class businessman, the man oozed money and disdain. His expensively cut suit was obviously tailored exactly to his specifications, as was the sneer that curled his lips. Evy wondered for a second how long he'd practiced that look in front of his mirror. "We will move when we are finished with our...." The man stopped short, a look of absolute shock on his face. "My God! It can't be! I thought you'd returned to your dilapidated tents and flea bitten camels ages ago. What are you doing here?"  
  
It was with some degree of shock that Rick and Evy realized the man's derisive tone was directed at Ardeth. It was even more of a shock that Ardeth seemed to know this man. The Med-jai's face was tight with loathing. It was as if he'd seen something worse than scarab beetles crawling out of the London sewers and he made no effort to hide the fact. "Milton." It was amazing that one word spoken just right could sound like the lowest insult possible. Rick's eyes widened at the tone his brother was using.  
  
"Ardeth Bey. My, my." The man called Milton made it just as clear he felt the same about Ardeth. "Still wearing those desert clothes, I see. I always said you couldn't civilize a heathen dog."  
  
Ardeth caught Rick's arm as the American surged forward.  
  
"Who's this, Bey? Don't tell me there's someone in this country who's actually not embarrassed to be seen with you?"  
  
Ardeth felt Rick's arm tighten beneath his hand. "He is not worth your trouble," he said softly.  
  
Rick's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure, old buddy? I think I might enjoy pounding his face into the pavement."  
  
Azizah shifted uneasily in her uncle's arms. She didn't like this confrontation. She also didn't like the way this strange man was talking to her father. She held out her arms and Ardeth automatically reached for her, comforting her with his touch.  
  
"Oh, how sweet," Milton simpered sarcastically. "A little desert ragamuffin. Is she yours, Bey? Or some whore's child you're selling at market?"  
  
With the speed of a striking cobra, Ardeth's backhand caught the man's cheek, the sheer force of the blow laying open flesh from ear to nose. He hit the sidewalk with a dull thud, the men around him backing away from the tall robed man who'd just attacked with inhuman speed. The raging tempest in those brown eyes warned them off and the tall American beside him radiated as much, if not more, fury than the foreigner. A second after the blow landed, Azizah was in Evy's arms and Ardeth crouched beside the bleeding Englishman. His voice was soft but the words landed with the hardness of physical blows. "You may insult me if you wish, but if you ever lay insult upon one of my flesh again, I swear upon my oath they will be the last words you utter." And then he stood and walked away as if nothing had happened.  
  
O'Connell looked down at the man on the ground and smiled grimly. "My brother may not mind if you insult him," he remarked casually, "but I do. And if I ever hear you insult him again. . . well, let's just say that my oath is as good as his." As if to clarify his point, he drove his foot into Milton's midsection and listened to the gratifying 'whoosh' as the air in his lungs was forced out. Rick watched the man gulp for oxygen like a landed fish for a moment, then nodded pleasantly to the watching crowd.  
  
He caught up with Evy and Ardeth at the car. "Who the hell was that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even for Azizah's sake. She was clearly frightened and clung tightly to her father.  
  
"Someone I knew once," was the only answer he got.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four - Answers  
  
"I told Alex we'd pick him up," Rick informed Ardeth as they pulled up in front of the school. "He should be along any minute. He can't wait to see you!"  
  
Ardeth smiled. "Nor I him." He opened the car door and he and Rick walked to the gate, while Azizah and Evy caught up on their news in the car. The two men leaned against the wrought iron fence and waited for classes to dismiss for the day.  
  
"Spencer Milton," Ardeth said suddenly, answering the question Rick was about to ask.  
  
"Where'd you meet him?" Rick wanted to know.  
  
"Here. In England."  
  
"During the whole Imhotep thing?" Rick couldn't believe Ardeth had the time to socialize during his last visit to London.  
  
"No. Many years ago." Ardeth seemed reluctant to talk about it further.  
  
Rick, however, found his unwillingness to discuss the issue too tempting to resist. "I didn't know you'd been to England before last year."  
  
"I had visited once before."  
  
"And you met this Milton guy then."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh." Rick waited a moment. "So, how'd you meet him?"  
  
It was hard to believe but Rick could swear that Ardeth was fidgeting. He fought the urge to smile. This discomfiture on stoic Med-jai's part was fascinating. He couldn't wait to find out what this whole thing was about.  
  
"He was a classmate." Ardeth's hesitant answer was quiet.  
  
"Classmate?" Rick wondered. "From where?" Ardeth turned his head away and mumbled a reply. "I didn't quite catch that." Rick prompted.  
  
"You will not let this go, will you?" Ardeth asked with a frustrated sigh.  
  
Rick laughed out loud then. "Not on your life, brother. Besides, you started it. Now spill it."  
  
Ardeth looked away again and studied the trees surrounding the schoolyard. This wasn't something he wanted to talk about but he supposed that it would come out sooner or later, especially now that Milton knew he was back. People might start looking for him and it would be best if the O'Connell's knew why. He heaved another great sigh and looked up at the sunny sky. "Oxford," he said abruptly.  
  
"Oxford?" Rick asked, not quite sure what Ardeth meant.  
  
"I met Milton at Oxford. We were classmates. We hated each other from the first day we met until the day I returned home three years later."  
  
"Oxford." Rick repeated. He was a little shocked. It never occurred to him that Ardeth might have actually studied abroad as a young man. That would explain the perfect English, he supposed. And the western manners he was familiar with. Still, it was quite the revelation. Any further questioning was postponed as the school doors flew open and dozens of children streamed into the schoolyard. Many of them stopped short at the sight of the tall, forbidding Med-jai in his foreign robes set with curious silver symbols. This was not something they saw everyday and definitely not standing in front of their school. Before long, all of the children, who'd come out yelling and running, were standing still as stone, staring at the man beside Alex O'Connell's father.  
  
"ARDETH!!!" The yell was loud enough to cause Rick to flinch. Ardeth, however, simply grinned and stepped forward, catching the flying boy in his arms.  
  
"Alex!" he spoke to his heir briefly in Arabic and they laughed together. Rick could only imagine he said something about Alex's dazed school friends. Finally, Alex pulled away and motioned toward a group of boys about his age. "Guys! Come and meet my Uncle Ardeth. The one I was telling you about." Alex's words broke the silence and the small group came forward. The other children went about their way, stealing sidelong glances at the Arab and promising themselves they would find out about this strange man tomorrow.  
  
"Ardeth, this is Charlie and Rupert and David, my friends. Guys, this is my uncle, Ardeth Bey."  
  
Ardeth bowed his head at the threesome. "It is an honor to meet the friends of my brother's son," he said formally. The boys simply nodded, their eyes wide. The one called Charlie cleared his throat. "Are you really from Egypt? Do you really live in the desert?"  
  
The Med-jai nodded. "I do."  
  
Charlie's question opened the floodgates and for several minutes Ardeth answered all kinds of questions from the young boys. Eventually, Alex broke it up. "We've got to go, fellas. Ardeth and I have catching up to do."  
  
"Alex! Alex! Alex!" A miniature white missile launched towards the group.  
  
"Zizzy!" Alex exclaimed as he caught her. "Gosh, you've gotten tall!"  
  
"You too, Alex." Azizah beamed at him and he smiled back. "This is Azizah, Ardeth's daughter." He introduced her to his friends. "Well, gotta go. See you tomorrow!" Alex waved at his friends and with Azizah on one hand and Ardeth holding the other he walked to the waiting car.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Spencer Milton scowled at the doctor from over the ice pack he held against his split cheek. "What do you mean, it will leave a scar?! It can't leave a scar, I won't have it!"  
  
The doctor sighed inwardly but outwardly composed his face into benign sympathy. "I'm sorry, my lord, but it can't be helped. The gash is quite deep. I can do my best to minimize the scarring but it will leave a very definite line."  
  
"I'm sure the ladies will think it quite dashing," offered a voice from the doorway. "Give you that rugged, ne'er do well look they all swoon over."  
  
Milton cursed. "What the hell are you doing here, Croft?"  
  
Victor Croft smiled, which only made his thin lips into even thinner lines. "I heard about your misfortune, of course," he simpered unconvincingly. "As your dear friend, I came at once. To commiserate."  
  
"To gloat, you mean," Milton spat. "Get on with it, man!" He glared at the doctor who stood at his shoulder, a needle and thread in his hand. "And make the stitches small!"  
  
For the next half-hour, Milton yelled, cursed, derided the doctor's skill and questioned his education. Only after a warning from Croft that the stitches were crooked from all his moving about did he quiet, resorting to muttering through clenched teeth. Finally, the exhausted physician tied off the last stitch and covered the wound with white gauze. "I shall leave my instructions for the care of the wound with your valet. I will suggest that you minimize conversation to keep the cheek as smooth as possible. I'll be back tomorrow to see how you're faring. Until then, my lord." He left, closing the parlor door behind him.  
  
"That went well," remarked Croft gaily as he left his post by the door and headed for the small wet bar in the corner.  
  
"Shut up," Milton growled. He'd barely managed to keep from throttling the so-called doctor during the procedure and was in no temper to humor his sarcastic friend.  
  
"Brandy?" Croft offered after pouring himself a liberal glass.  
  
Milton stood up and grabbed the glass, downing its contents in one gulp. "Damn him. Damn him to hell!" he screamed, the shattering of the expensive crystal punctuating his outburst as it hit the fireplace wall.  
  
Croft was nonplussed. "Really, Spencer, I didn't think the doctor was that bad. And the stitches were small. Well placed, too. I should imagine there will barely be a line for anyone to swoon over."  
  
"Not the doctor! Ardeth Bey, damn his heathen soul! I should have killed him years ago."  
  
"Ardeth Bey? Who's that?"  
  
"A thorn in my side," Milton answered as he filled another glass with brandy. "Someone I met years ago. He's Egyptian or some such heathen race. He walks about like he's king of all he surveys. He wears those tattoos on his face like badges of honor instead of the freakish markings they truly are. "  
  
Croft straightened up from where he was lounging at the bar. "Tattoos? What sort of tattoos?"  
  
"I don't know what sort of tattoos, damnit! Swirling marks of some kind, in dark blue, on each cheek. And other marks on his forehead, like hieroglyphics."  
  
"Do you know what tribe he's from? What race?"  
  
"No. He never would say. You seem uncommonly interested in this, Croft. Why the hell should you care what race he is?"  
  
"As you know," Croft explained slowly, "our mutual friends have been looking for the ancient ruins, rife as they are with treasure. They wish this treasure to support their global efforts."  
  
"What the hell does that have to do with Ardeth Bey?" Pain and anger made Milton impatient.  
  
"You have heard of Hamunaptra?" Croft asked.  
  
"Of course, you idiot. That's one of the sites we're interested in."  
  
Croft willed his temper into submission. Whatever he thought of Milton personally was moot. Milton was part of the organization and they needed him. Croft took a deep breath and continued. "It is said that the reason no one has found it is because it is protected by a mysterious tribe of desert warriors who are supposedly directly descended from the Med-jai, Seti's elite guards. They are the reason no one has ever found Hamunaptra, or, if anyone has, why the never lived to report it."  
  
"What about those yanks all those years ago? They supposedly found it just fine."  
  
"I highly doubt they found anything. Besides, they all died before anyone could question them, some sort of curse nonsense. That, however, is beside the point."  
  
"Pray tell then, what is the point?" Milton wondered crossly.  
  
"If this Bey fellow is Med-jai, as I suspect," Croft explained, as if to a child, "he can tell us the location of Hamunaptra and how to get inside."  
  
Milton snorted. "I know this man. He's as stubborn as they come and, despite being a heathen, damn him, he's not stupid. What makes you think he would tell us anything?"  
  
"Every man has his price. Even heathens."  
  
"Not this man. He won't be bought." Milton said this as if it were an insult.  
  
Croft's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Well, then, we shall simply have to find some way to persuade him to cooperate."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
That night, dinner at the O'Connell house was one of laughter and conversation and more laughter. Ardeth and Azizah's favorite foods were served, as well as some new dishes that Evy thought they might like. After dinner, the two children went off to play backgammon in the library while the adults sat in the living room, sipping tea and talking.  
  
"I'm sorry we couldn't return to Cairo like we'd planned," Evy was saying. "Things just got so hectic here we couldn't get away."  
  
"I understand, Evy. It was a busy time for us as well."  
  
"Nothing bad, I hope," Rick asked, a little worried. The Med-jai's life was sworn to protect the artifacts of ancient Egypt and that was a decidedly dangerous job. He worried about Ardeth more often that he cared to admit.  
  
"No, no," Ardeth waved his worries away, "nothing like that. After Ahm Shere we needed to train more troops. I have been training new captains." There was still sadness in his voice over the loss of the thousand men at Ahm Shere.  
  
Rick decided to lighten the subject if he could. "Speaking of captains, how's Bashaar? Is he still keeping you on your toes?"  
  
Ardeth laughed at that. "He is! He has recently taken a wife. I have had to train extra hours with him to keep him from getting fat from her cooking."  
  
Rick and Evy laughed at that. Bashaar was very thin. To think of him gaining weight was quite a thought.  
  
"Azizah is so tall," Evy remarked wistfully. "I can't believe how big she's gotten in eleven months."  
  
"I find it hard to believe it has been almost a year since we last met. I am glad these circumstances are different." Ardeth smiled at his family. It had been almost one year to the day that they'd battled Imhotep's guards in the London streets. Almost a year to the day that Alex had been kidnapped from under their noses.  
  
The O'Connell's smiled back. It was good to have Ardeth in their midst again. Rick and Evy had both missed him and his precocious child immensely. "I'm glad you've decided to visit," Evy said quietly from her perch on the arm of the chair where Rick was sitting. Ardeth bowed his head, acknowledging her feelings with an affectionate grin. Still, Rick could sense that there was something else going on. Something Ardeth wasn't telling them about.  
  
"Look at the time!" Evy declared, rising to her feet as the clock struck ten. "Those two need to get to bed." Ardeth made to rise also, but Evy stopped him with her words. "I'd like to tuck Azizah in, if that's alright? I've missed her so and I'd like to see her settled in myself." Ardeth nodded, much to Rick's relief. He was grateful for the opportunity to be alone with Ardeth for while. Maybe if Evy wasn't around, he'd talk about what was bothering him. He waited until his wife's footsteps had faded upstairs before he spoke.  
  
"So, Ardeth, not that I'm not happy to see you but why are you really here?" He said this with a smile, letting Ardeth know that he was glad to see him even if subterfuge was the thing that brought him so far from home.  
  
Ardeth winced comically. "It is so obvious, then?"  
  
Rick laughed. "No. I doubt anyone else would think twice. I, however, know that as much as you wanted to see us, your duty is first and foremost."  
  
The Med-jai sighed, deeply. "Duty," he muttered dismally as he laid his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. "You know, my brother, despite what some say, there are times when it is not good to be the king."  
  
Rick sat forward and clasped his hands together. "Tell me." Another sigh, deeper this time if that could be possible. Something was indeed weighing heavily on his brother's mind.  
  
"Do you remember Muzakir?"  
  
O'Connell frowned a moment then grinned. "Oh, yeah! Your grandmother's boyfriend." A short, barking laugh erupted unwillingly from Ardeth's throat. "Boy, the two of them were just too cute if you ask me. Why don't they just get married or live together or something? It's obvious that they're, you know, involved." Rick wiggled his eyebrows and Ardeth laughed again, longer this time.  
  
"They prefer to believe they are being discreet," he admitted  
  
Rick thought back to the time he'd caught them making love in the palace garden at midnight. "Discreet, huh? I'd hate to see them if they believed they were being obvious."  
  
Ardeth laughed again, then spoke, waving his hand in dismissal of the subject of his grandmother as he moved on. "As fascinating a topic as it may be, that is not what is troubling me. Muzakir had a vision."  
  
Rick waited for Ardeth to say something else. "And this vision was...." he prompted when Ardeth didn't speak.  
  
"This vision involved me."  
  
"And?" Rick asked. "This is going to take all night," he thought to himself as he went to the bar and poured himself a drink. He knew how hard it was to pry information out of Ardeth when he was like this.  
  
"There was also a woman in this vision. He saw us together."  
  
"It's not my wife is it?" Rick teased. "Cause if that's why you're here, you can forget it. She's mine."  
  
Ardeth surged out of the chair and began to pace the room furiously. "No, no. It is not Evy. It is someone else. Someone who is a stranger to me. Muzakir saw us in this vision and then told the elders. They took it as a sign from Allah. The elders..." His voice trailed off as if the thought was too terrible to voice aloud.  
  
"The elders what?"  
  
"They felt that by joining the outside tribes with us, it would make us stronger, that we would be better suited to face the coming trouble. Only by doing so, they have made it impossible for me! I do not know that I can do what they ask of me!"  
  
Rick stopped trying to make sense of what his agitated guest was saying. He only hoped that by the time the tirade stopped, he'd have at least some clue as to what the hell Ardeth was talking about. He opened his mouth to ask 'what trouble?', but Ardeth continued, so Rick closed his mouth, sipped his drink and waited, watching his brother's wild agitated gestures as he paced the room.  
  
"I agree that by joining with the outside tribes we can only make ourselves stronger. And we lost so many at Ahm Shere. It can only bode well for us to bring some of the outsiders home to replace the warriors we lost. But this! This is too much!" He turned on Rick, his face confused and angry, his expression lost, his hands raking back through his hair. "Have I not been a good leader for them? Have I not done everything they have asked of me? Regardless of personal risk? Regardless of my own life?" Again Rick thought to answer him but was cut off. "I am aware of my duty. I am aware of my obligations. But to take a decision like this away from me! And now it is too late. It is done. And there is nothing I can do short of dishonoring my people." Ardeth finished and sank back into the chair, his energy and anger spent.  
  
Rick cleared his throat. "Now will you tell me what's going on?" He hadn't meant it to be funny but Ardeth laughed anyway, long and loud with a slight hint of hysteria. Then just as suddenly as he started he stopped, and dropped his head into his hands. After a long moment he stood and crossed to the terrace door and opened it. "Do you not see?" he asked quietly, his face turned towards the cool breeze coming in from the dark forest that ringed the estate. "The elders have found me a wife. They have married me to a stranger." And with those words left hanging in the library, he left, leaving the terrace door open behind him. A soft sound behind him had Rick turning with all the speed of his Med-jai reflexes. Evy stood in the doorway to the hall. Her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.  
  
"I gather you heard?" Rick commented dryly. Evy nodded. "Well, what do know about that?" Rick asked rhetorically. To his surprise, Evy answered.  
  
"I think I know who he's been married to."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five – Remembrances  
  
Khayriyyah Alaa' al Din lounged in the steaming tub, letting the hot water soak away the frustrations of the day. "I wonder if I'll get to take hot baths in the desert?" she thought idly. "Of course not, you silly fool," she answered herself aloud, "it's hot in the desert. Why would you want to take a hot bath in the hot desert?" She sighed deeply, the movement spilling water out onto the floor.  
  
Khay held no hopes that she would somehow escape going to Egypt with Ardeth Bey as his wife. It was her duty as it was his. They were already technically married and nothing short of an act of God would change that. Oh, she had entertained thoughts of running away, or doing something to disgrace herself but she knew, no matter how much her heart rebelled, she could not dishonor her family or her tribe by doing something so selfish.  
  
"I just wish I knew what he was like," she whispered. For a while, Khay had entertained the idea of asking Evelyn O'Connell if she knew anything about the Med-jai king. Then the conversation in the office took place and Khay knew from Evelyn's reaction that she and Ardeth Bey were good friends. She couldn't ask her now, it would be too awkward. Still, there was no one else who even knew the man, not personally anyway. Of his reputation, there was much to learn from the Med-jai tribe. Even this far away, the tales of his honor and bravery were legendary. But what of the man himself? All Khay knew for certain was that he had loved his first wife very much.  
  
"How in the name of Allah can I compete with that?" she wailed inwardly. Sadly, her soul had no answer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
The small dining room was ablaze with light. Ardeth surveyed the table over his glass and smiled to himself. It was good to be with his family. Even Jonathan had come this night and it was good to see him, too. Truth was, he hadn't enjoyed himself so much since the O'Connell's were in Egypt.  
  
"I say, it's tonight, isn't it?" Jonathan remarked suddenly as the thought came to him. "One year since old Imhotep's buddies raised his rotting carcass from the dead again."  
  
Rick rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "Oh, yeah. Thanks for the reminder. I'd almost forgotten."  
  
Evy didn't lose a beat. "Yes, it had definitely slipped my mind."  
  
"Mine as well," chimed Ardeth somberly. "To think that one year ago was my first bus ride."  
  
"And my first extended tour of the famous sites of Egypt," Alex added.  
  
"And Evy's first look at the romantic oasis of Ahm Shere." Rick gibed.  
  
"Poor Imhotep. He ended badly," Evy said, her lips twitching despite her serious tone.  
  
Jonathan nodded. "Yes. Let that be a lesson for you, children, that's what you get for trying to take over the world. Remember that," he advised gravely to Alex and Azizah. The mood held for a moment, then they could no longer hold their straight faces. The room rang with laughter.  
  
"Not to change the subject," Jonathan continued when they'd calmed somewhat, "but I can't help but wonder if you've got some relatives hereabouts, Ardeth."  
  
"Really? Why so?" Ardeth asked, still smiling.  
  
"I came across that name the other day, believe it or not, in the records at the library. I was doing some research for my class and I. . ."  
  
"Class?" The Med-jai's head tipped slightly to the side in question. "I was not aware you were continuing your studies."  
  
"Oh, I'm not. I'm actually . . . that is I've begun . . ." To Ardeth's surprise, Jonathan blushed. "I'm teaching a course in Egyptology at Oxford. After all that happened last year, I rather decided that I could put my life to better use than gambling and drinking."  
  
"Amazing, isn't it?" grinned Rick, obviously proud of his brother in law.  
  
"Yes, who'dve thought it?" Evy, too, beamed at him. "And to make matters worse, he's quite good at it from what I'm told."  
  
"Yes, well, ahem, as I was saying, I was in the library doing some research and I came across the name 'Ardeth Bey'. I did some checking and someone with your name attended Oxford about fifteen years ago. Quite a chap, too, from what I could gather. As well as one of the top five in his class, he was school fencing champion three years running, and was quite proficient in mathematics as well. Seems he never finished though. There is no record of him after those three years."  
  
"Could this be someone related to you, Ardeth?" Evy asked with a smile. "I mean, it's not exactly a common name around here."  
  
"It's not a relative, is it Ardeth?" Rick's eyebrows raised and Ardeth knew that he'd said nothing to Evy or Jonathan about his past. Still, he hesitated. He felt comfortable with these people he'd come to consider his family and he didn't want to spoil it with particulars. Rick, on the other hand, had other ideas. "Time to come clean, old buddy."  
  
"'Come clean' about what, Dad? What are you talking about?"  
  
Ardeth's next words answered Alex's questions. "He is not a relative. He is I."  
  
"You!?" Jonathan choked on his wine.  
  
"My goodness, Ardeth!" Evy remarked while absently pounding her brother on the back. "Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
Ardeth shrugged. "It was a part of my life that was long ago. It did not occur to me to say anything until we encountered someone who had known me then."  
  
"That horrid man on the docks!"  
  
He nodded. "I told O'Connell that I had attended Oxford in case someone came looking for me. I did not make many friends in my time there." His voice took a decidedly ominous turn. "That man we met, Milton, will not be pleased that I have returned. He is of the impression that I cheated him of something he coveted. Something he had aspired to have long before I came to the school. I am not entirely certain he will not seek out retribution."  
  
"Retribution? My goodness, Ardeth, what could you have possibly taken?"  
  
"The Asbury Medal." Jonathan had recovered his voice and was looking at Ardeth with something akin to awe. "You won the Asbury Medal three years in a row."  
  
Ardeth nodded.  
  
"What's the Asbury Medal?" Alex wanted to know.  
  
"It's the University's fencing championship. It was established by John Spencer Milton, Viscount Asbury, over a hundred years ago." Ardeth was impressed. Jonathan had obviously done his research.  
  
"And I'm gonna take a shot in the dark and guess that this Milton guy we ran into last week is related to this Viscount Asbury somehow." Rick was looking at Ardeth, his expression clearly wondering why his brother had failed to mention this particular piece of information.  
  
Ardeth shrugged. "His great-grandfather."  
  
"And one of the premier fencers of his time! And in the medal's history, the winners have all been related in some way or another to the Milton family. Except. . ."  
  
"Except Ardeth! That's fabulous!" Alex was clearly impressed. "Can you show it to me sometime?"  
  
Ardeth couldn't help it. He smiled at Alex's enthusiasm and motioned to Azizah who had been busily eating her second helping of dessert during this whole exchange. "Come here, ameerah." He whispered something in her ear and she took off running. He looked after her fondly. "Your cook will have her fatter than my horse," he remarked to Evy with a smile.  
  
She only smiled back. "You're changing the subject."  
  
His hands raised in defeat. "I can only try."  
  
Mrs. McLearan, the O'Connell's housekeeper and cook, took that moment to enter the dining room. "I've laid a tea in the library," she informed Evy as she began to gather the plates. "And I've made some of the raspberry tea you like so well, Mr. Bey."  
  
Ardeth smiled and thanked her and the older woman blushed bright pink. She'd taken quite a fancy to the visitor and his daughter and went out of her way to make new dishes that she thought they might like. Ardeth rued the day she'd discovered Azizah's sweet tooth, however, for she'd since made more and more wonderful desserts to feed his daughter. "She's too skinny!" Mrs. McLearan had declared. He was convinced the woman was determined to make his daughter as round as herself but could only smile at her genuine and loving nature.  
  
Evy waited until they'd settled into the library with hot cups of tea before she resumed her questioning. "So, you attended Oxford for three years. Why didn't you continue on?"  
  
"I needed to return home. My father had become ill."  
  
"And you became king and couldn't come back, right?" Alex asked.  
  
"That is correct. To be honest, I would not have finished anyway. I did not like this place then. It held few friends and I grew tired of the cold and damp."  
  
"I can see how that could happen," Rick remarked into his teacup, earning him a slug from his wife.  
  
"Just out of curiosity, what did you study?" Jonathan wanted to know.  
  
Ardeth laughed. "My main course of study was ancient Egypt. My father wanted me to learn what the west knew of our history."  
  
"Ah, yes. 'Know thine enemy'." Jonathan quoted sagely.  
  
"Indeed. I also studied mathematics."  
  
"Really?" Evy was a bit astonished. She'd never considered this side of Ardeth possible.  
  
They were interrupted by a commotion in the hall and Azizah flew back into the room with a large, flat box in her hands. "Here it is, Babu. It was just where you said." She handed her father the box she carried and climbed onto his lap.  
  
"Thank you, habibah. Alex," he motioned for the boy to join him, then opened the lid. Lying side by side on a black velvet bed were three medals cast in gold. Each bore the inset of a rampant lion holding two crossed swords in his paws. Alex gasped in wonder and delight for each medal was a work of art. The lion's eyes were small rubies and his claws were glittering diamonds. The hilts of the swords were black onyx and the blades glimmered silver.  
  
"The Asbury Medal," Jonathan breathed from where he leaned over Ardeth shoulder.  
  
"Nice," Rick remarked.  
  
Evy only stared at the beautiful disks. "You must be very proud of them!" she managed after a moment.  
  
"They are among my most prized and hated possessions."  
  
"What?" Everyone but Azizah was surprised.  
  
"They are symbols of my youthful arrogance and pride. I have kept them as reminders of the man I defeated. The man I do not wish to become."  
  
"Milton."  
  
"I had no desire for these medals. I did not understand at the time the honor and tradition they represented. Like an unreasonable child, I wanted to possess them so that Milton could not."  
  
"You didn't like this man," Evy remarked dryly.  
  
Ardeth grunted. "He and I hated each other from the moment we met. From the first day we fought for control. We each had to be first in everything. I was determined to master fencing to defeat him, as it was his craft. He became interested in mathematics only after learning that I was the head of our class in that subject."  
  
"But why did you hate each other?" Alex wondered, his face mirroring his confusion.  
  
The room turned quiet as they waited for his response. Finally he spoke, "I was fifteen."  
  
"Fifteen?" Evy interrupted, her eyebrows raised.  
  
Ardeth only shrugged, then continued, the words pouring from his soul like tainted blood from a septic wound. "I knew that someday I would be king of my tribe and that my father had sent me to university to learn the ways of the men I would have to kill to protect our secrets. I was young and proud, alone and afraid. There were Med-jai in the city but I felt isolated. I was torn between my duty and my fear and it weakened me. On the first day, I wore the clothes my father had had purchased for me so that I might better fit in among the westerners." He laughed, a bitter, tight laugh that seemed as if it must hurt his throat.  
  
"Milton and his friends were the first people I met on my way to class. It was clear to them that, even in my western clothes, I was foreign. My tattoos, my accent, and though nothing was said about my lineage, it was clear to them even then that I was more at that moment than they would ever be and they hated me for it. And to me, they represented everything I would never have - choice, freedom, the luxury of spending days free of danger and threat. For that, I hated them just as much. Only their fear of me kept them distant."  
  
"I don't understand," Alex said in a soft voice. "Why would they be afraid of you?"  
  
Ardeth fixed him with a firm gaze and raised his hand to rest against the side of Alex's face. "Change. My being among them signaled the end of their world as it had always been. Privilege and power were no longer theirs for the taking. My skills showed them that. They realized that they would have to prove themselves worthy in the eyes of a changing world and they feared that they would not measure up."

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The tall, painfully thin man idly stroked his small mustache, smoothing the sparse hair as he thought. His light gray pinstripe suit complemented his darker gray hair and gave him the look of an aging gentleman. Only his voice, cold and controlled, gave any hint that he was, perhaps, not what he seemed.  
  
"So you think this Bey is one of these Med-jai?"  
  
"I am almost certain of it. We've spoken of it in some detail and given what Milton has told me of the man, it seems more than likely." Croft looked to Milton who nodded his assent.  
  
"From what Croft has told me about the markings of these Med-jai people, they are identical to the ones Bey wears on his face." Milton didn't hide the revulsion he obviously felt about Ardeth Bey's facial tattoos. "I also told him, however, that Bey is disciplined and intelligent, the god-rotting heathen. It will be difficult if not impossible to get any information from him he doesn't want to disclose."  
  
The tall man waved off Milton's concerns. "We have our ways. I can personally guarantee that he will talk, given the proper incentive. Tell me more about the child you saw, and the white couple that was with him."  
  
They discussed in detail all that Spencer Milton could remember about the meeting on the street. His hands fisted tight as his rage built anew. Finally, the three men concluded their discussion and decided that they would each do what they could to discover the identity of the couple who was with Ardeth Bey and the child he was so protective of.  
  
"Remember, when you find Bey, I want a piece of him. I owe him for what he did. And for other things," Milton absently stroked his still healing cheek.  
  
"I'll remember. For now, I think we should part. It wouldn't do to have someone see us spending too much time together. I will contact you if I discover something, and I expect you to do the same. Until later, gentlemen."

The man shrugged into his overcoat and put on a felt hat, adding inches to his already tall frame. He turned to leave then turned back. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot." He raised his right arm, elbow locked tight, fingers together and palm flat out front. "Heil, Hitler."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six – A Cry in the Night  
  
Khay removed her spectacles, and rubbed her tired eyes. It was well after midnight but her turbulent thoughts had kept her from sleep so she'd decided to work on the tablets. She only wore her glasses when reading very fine writing and the stone tablets of the Med-jai that she had taken home to translate were written in some of the smallest symbols she'd ever seen. Not the main body of the work, that was clear enough. Each curse and its effects were described in complete detail, leaving nothing to imagination. She was certain she'd have nightmares by the time she was done. Still, it wasn't the curses that fascinated her. It was the fine text that underscored the major work.  
  
Listed in among the curses she'd discovered descriptions of the different injuries that mummies could inflict on humans and the treatments used by the ancient Med-jai healers. From what she had determined so far, mummy attacks had been much more frequent in ancient times. She knew from her own teachings that some of the cures were still taught but most of the ones listed here she'd never heard of. She made a mental note to ask her friend, Batool, about them when the healer returned from holiday. Khay couldn't say why, but something told her this information was important. She rubbed her eyes once more and looked at the clock. Almost two. She sighed and replaced the spectacles, her eyes focusing once more on the tiny text.  
  
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He stood on the balcony, the stones cool on his bare feet and stared out at nothing, content to simply stand still and let his thoughts wander. They'd sat a long time talking and laughing this evening. It had been good to share the story of his past with them, his adopted family. Finally, at one o'clock they'd decided they should carry the sleeping children upstairs and turn in themselves.  
  
Ardeth sighed, inhaling deeply of the rich night air heavy with the scent of pine and leafy trees. It was scent he always associated with England, a scent very different from the dry hot smells of the desert. It was a scent he secretly loved.  
  
The pale moonlight played across the hard planes of his chest. He'd removed his outer garments as well as his shoes and was clad only in the loose pants he wore under his robes. His fingertips lightly traced the faint scars on his chest. It was hard to believe it had been one year ago this very night, almost this very hour, that the Creature's guards had almost taken his life. The scarred lines were familiar to him as he often traced them, wondering at his luck and Allah's mercy. Ardeth let his thoughts wander a while longer. The clock striking the three quarter hour brought him to the realization that he'd stood there longer than he'd intended. Turning, he made his way into the dark chamber and headed for the bed.  
  
Suddenly, a bolt of agonizing pain raced through him. A pain so intense it stole his breath and buckled his knees. Ardeth reached out, trying to grab onto something that would hold him up, something solid he could cling to offset the agony in his chest. For a split second, his fingers brushed something, then he and it crashed to the floor. Another razor sharp pain, this one stronger, sliced through him and he cried out even as his mind screamed in denial. The painful  
  
debriding of the wounds he's suffered, all the cautious cleansing and healing salves had failed! The wounds left by the mummy's cursed fingers burned bright as fire within him and Ardeth Bey was quickly becoming lost in their unearthly flames.  
  
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"So, do you write the inscriptions over the sealed wounds? Or do you write them in the open wounds?" Khayriyyah thought about that a moment then shuddered and made a face. "Let's hope it's the first one." She was still up, fascinated and repelled by the strange facts she was finding in the Med- jai's stone tablets. She's pulled out a tiny, stiff brush from her small store of archaeological tools and had managed to free more of the sand and dust that obscured the tiny marks. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and her eyes were narrowed behind her glasses. "Ah," she cried softly after cleaning the text, "it's over the wounds. That makes it much easier, I dare say."  
  
"You dare say what?"  
  
Khayriyyah knew her father's habits well enough not be surprised at his voice. They were two of a kind, Nadhir Alaa' al Din and his night owl daughter.  
  
"This text, Papa. It describes how the Med-jai . . ." Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Father and daughter stared at each other, startled. A call at this hour could only mean one thing. Something terrible was happening.  
  
"Hello." Nadhir had picked up the phone. "Yes...... Can you explain...? ..... No, I have not but this type of thing is not well archived... Yes, but she is not here. In London, I mean... She has an apprentice of sorts but no one who is... Yes. We will come at once." He hung up the phone slowly and turned to his daughter. "Ardeth Bey is dying."  
  
Khayriyyah gasped. "What?! How?!"  
  
"The mummy's wounds. The one he received last year. They have inflamed and are causing him great pain. The O'Connell's fear for his life. The wounds are... they are...."  
  
"The mummy's fingers are showing beneath." Khayriyyah whispered in horror.  
  
Nadhir frowned. "How do you know this?"  
  
Khayriyyah's eyes dropped to the tablets in front of her and began to talk, slowly at first then gathering speed as she became more and more agitated. "It tells here of the Curse of the Mummy's Fingers. The Curse would kill the person who had been attacked unless the wounds were cleansed."  
  
"That was done," interrupted her father.  
  
"But there's more! Here in the smaller text, where it gives the cures, a portion of the inscription was covered up, most likely for a century or more! I doubt anyone knew it existed. I mean Ardeth was the first person to survive this kind of wound for over a hundred years. I don't think anyone even knows about this next part." She raised excited eyes to her father who only glared at her. When she still didn't speak, he lifted a hand in an unspoken command. Khayriyyah drew in a sharp breath. "Right. Well, it says here that if the wounds are cleansed, the victim is given a year's reprieve. Then, one year to the moment of the infliction of the wounds, the Curse would return unless the proper sealing spells had been set upon the visible remains. In other words, protective signs must be placed along the scars before the year is up or the victim will suffer all over again."  
  
The elder Alaa al' Din ran his hands through his hair. "Does it say what happens after the year is up? Can you put the spells on then?"  
  
"I didn't get that far!" Khayriyyah wailed, realizing that Ardeth's life was literally at her fingertips.  
  
Nadhir closed his eyes in thought for a moment, then opened them. Determination sparked in their depths. "Get dressed. Bring your healers bag. Bring the tablets and a strong torch. We leave in five minutes. "  
  
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"It says here," Khayriyyah raised her voice over the sound of the engine, "that if a healer does not mark the wounds with the protective signs within the first year, the signs can then only be set by..." she paused as a sharp curve almost sent the tablets spiraling off the back seat and into the door. Only her quick hands saved the stones from certain disaster. When the car straightened, she readjusted herself back into a kneeling position on the floor and raised her flashlight. "...only be set by the Heart of the Soul. The Heart of the Soul? What does that mean?"  
  
To her surprise, her father answered. "The Heart of the Soul is that one person that is the missing piece of one's soul."  
  
"Well, then all is lost!" Khayriyyah gasped in horror. "Ardeth Bey's heart was his wife and she's dead."  
  
Nadhir shook his head. "I do not think so."  
  
"What do you mean? He loved his wife more than anything, we know that! How could she not be the one to complete his heart?"  
  
"The woman a man loves might very well complete his heart, but she is not necessarily the one who will complete his soul."  
  
Khayriyyah stared at her father. "What on earth are you talking about, Father? Wouldn't a person you love be your heart and soul?"  
  
"My child, love is an emotion that runs deep. I do not deny that your heart will lead you in love. The Heart of one's Soul is different. It is not about emotion. It's about a bond that exceeds all else in your life. When you meet the Heart of your Soul, you will feel it, almost like a physical blow. Unfortunately, not everyone meets their soul's Heart in one lifetime. Sometimes it takes many lifetimes to find this one person who will complete you."  
  
"But what if you're already married when this happens?"  
  
"Our laws allow that a man may take more than one wife, and a wife more than one husband."  
  
"I always thought that was for the..."  
  
"...survival of the tribe?" her father finished with a laugh. "That is also a good reason. But the laws are there for a greater reason - the Heart of the Soul."  
  
"But how do we find this person?" Khayriyyah sputtered. "I mean, it could be anyone! Where do we begin to look? How do we know that by the time we find this person it won't be too late and Ardeth Bey will be dead?"  
  
"I do not believe that Allah has been merciful to young Bey only to end his life in this way."  
  
Her father's words were heavy and barely discernable above the roar of the car. Something in his tone made bumps rise on her arms and she shuddered. Her father had at times had visions that had come to pass. It was a trait that all Med-jai carried but not all had the gift to use it. Nadhir had never truly expanded on his ability but still it surfaced from time to time, reminding him that despite his distance from his homeland, he was Med- jai.  
  
Still, Khayriyyah didn't understand. "But, Father,..." she began, but her father cut her off short.  
  
"We are here, my daughter. We will find the answer."  
  
They pulled up before the front door with a flurry of gravel. Rick O'Connell rushed out to meet them. "Thank God you're here! You got the healer? Khayriyyah! Where's the.... Wait, don't tell me that you're the healer? Never mind. Let's go." Father and daughter exchanged glances and followed him into the house as Rick asked then answered his own questions. Evelyn O'Connell's husband had struck them both as being someone who could handle any situation with aplomb but tonight he was almost manic. Whatever was happening with Ardeth Bey had upset this man to the point of tears.  
  
As they dashed through the foyer and up the stairs, Khayriyyah had brief glimpses of ancient artifacts and antique furnishings. Then she was at the door of a large bedchamber. On the threshold of this room, the world as she knew it ended; breath left her body in a rush.  
  
"This can't be!" she thought as her senses swirled. "This isn't happening!" Her father had said it felt like a blow but he lied. It wasn't a blow, it was total upheaval. She felt as if her body had been caught in a cyclone and she was spinning both out of space and out of time. Khayriyyah caught her father's eye and she knew he knew. Ardeth Bey was the Heart of her Soul and she, his. She didn't need to see him to know this was the faceless man from all her dreams. She didn't need to hear his voice to know that his was the voice that had called her to her destiny since she had reached the age of maturity. She didn't need to see his pain contorted face to know that he was in agony, she felt it. Not as strong, surely, as he was feeling it but it was there nonetheless. Then Evy was turning to her with tears streaming down her face and time resumed. Khayriyyah Alaa al' Din vowed to herself at that moment that she was going to save her Heart's life.  
  
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Ardeth grasped the bedposts as another wave of torture swept through him. He closed his eyes, not needing to look to know that the inhuman fingers of the mummy's spirit rose and fell along the wounds, making them undulate with sharp upward turns. They raked at his skin as if fighting their way out from his body and into the human world. He could no more stop the cries of pain that fell from his lips as he could the dawn from coming and he knew enough not to waste his precious strength trying. Ardeth knew that Evy was with him. He could feel her cool hands on his arms, on his face, trying vainly to comfort him as the horror was unleashed on his person.  
  
He could also sense her fear. It emanated from her in waves and he was beyond any ability to help or console her. Rick had been there, but was gone now. Gone to call the Med-jai, Evy had said. Gone to get help. Ardeth doubted they'd find it. He had never, in all the years of his life, heard of this happening. Then again, no one in his lifetime had ever survived a mummy's initial attack. He was the first in over a hundred years. A commotion in the hallway penetrated his dulling senses. Running footsteps, voices. And then a force like a sandstorm tore through his soul and for a brief instant the world around him ceased to exist.  
  
On one level, he thought he'd died. But from his previous experience, this wasn't how it had felt and this time he could still feel the pain in his body, he was only less aware of it. On another level, something within him reached out and made contact with the force. His Soul leaped with a joy he hadn't felt in years, if ever. In that heartbeat a bond was established and he knew that this woman felt his pain, felt his helplessness, and in return he felt her strength, her determination that he should live. Ardeth forced his eyes open, forced them to focus on the woman coming toward him. His light brown eyes met her almost black ones. Hearts stopped beating, breath stopped, and a shock of eternal recognition shot through them both so strongly that the woman stumbled and Ardeth would have had he not been lying down. An older man caught the woman and she shook him off.  
  
Hearts resumed their work, lungs took in new air, and the two Souls silently promised to survive. The evil spirit that had been quelled by the moment of change forced itself past their bonds and reached clawed fingers upward. Two screams echoed into the night.  
  
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"Allah be merciful!" Khayriyyah breathed when she'd composed herself. She was looking at the inflamed scars on Ardeth's chest when the skin stretched outward in a horrid parody of human fingers. The bottommost scar spewed blood as it was ripped open from inside and, although she could not see the dead, decaying flesh of the mummy with her eyes, she could see it in that shadowed place in her mind and it terrified her.  
  
"Mrs. O'Connell, a towel!" she cried, lowering her hands to staunch the flow of crimson.  
  
In seconds, a white towel was laid over her hands and she pulled them out as Rick pressed down hard. Another towel was placed in her hands and she wiped them hurriedly, calling out instructions to her father. In seconds, a small bottle was placed in her hands and she pulled the cork.  
  
"Drink!" she ordered, placing the vial at Ardeth's mouth. His head rolled from side to side as if he was trying to escape the pain. "Drink!" she demanded again, this time in Arabic.  
  
Ardeth opened his mouth and she poured the contents onto his tongue. He grimaced at the taste, then swallowed. Again she ordered him to drink and then again until the bottle was empty. Within moments, Ardeth's grip on the bedposts weakened and fell to rest limply above his head. Khayriyyah pushed his sweaty hair from his brow and gently peeled open each eyelid. Satisfied that he was deeply unconscious, she turned to the O'Connells.  
  
"First," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "I need strong thread and a sharp needle." 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Anything that appears -_- like this -- _is a thought/ connection/ conversation. This will carry through the rest of the story. Regular italics are for ... uh... different stuff. I hope that's clear. (Please let me know if I've missed any of them (as sometimes I do)). Thanks! Xanthia  
  
Chapter Seven – The Heart of the Soul  
  
"Alright, then. What now?" Evy pushed the hair off her forehead and looked expectantly at Khay who took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  
  
"The answer is here," she said quietly as she swept the cloth cover from the tablets her father had placed on a nearby table.  
  
They were still in Ardeth's bedroom, having just finished stitching the ugly wound on his lower chest. Thankfully, the medicine she'd given Ardeth to put him out had also seemed to effect the mummy's ghost and it had been quiet for the moment. They had no hope that it would stay that way. Khayriyyah filled Evy in on everything she'd learned that night.  
  
"But who's this Heart of the Soul?" Evy wondered aloud as she read the passage Khay was pointing to. She looked up at the young Med-jai woman beside her and unconsciously touched her hand to her throat in surprise and shock. Khayriyyah's eyes literally glowed with an inner fire, a fire the color of the soul that Zahrah had captured in her hands on that night an eternity ago.  
  
"My God," Evy breathed. "It's you. How long have you known?"  
  
"Since the second I crossed that threshold," Khayriyyah said, pointing to the door. "And now I can feel him, sense him, deep within me. And I know that we are running out of time. Even now he weakens, his strength draining as he fights against the unholy thing that haunts his body. We have to figure this out, Evy," she begged, unaware that she was even using the nickname. "Will you help me?"  
  
Evy looked at the tablets spread out before her and nodded. "Where did you leave off?"  
  
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Alex slowly opened the door to Azizah's room and peeked inside.  
  
"Zizzy?" he called softly.  
  
A small hiccup answered him and he opened the door wider. Azizah sat huddled against the headboard, bedcovers clenched tightly in her fisted hands. The light from the hall reflected in her eyes, wide with fright. He entered the room and shut the door, the portal muffling the painful cries of her father. The two children had heard the sounds coming from Ardeth's room but only Alex left his bed to investigate. The sight of Ardeth's chest heaving with ghostly fingers had scared him silly and he was glad when his mother asked him to check on their little guest.  
  
Alex walked over to the bed and climbed up next to her.  
  
"Babu." she whispered, "Something is wrong with him."  
  
"Yes," Alex confirmed. It never occurred to him to lie to her. The truth was far less scary than the fiction adults sometimes concocted. "The scars from where he was attacked by the mummy last year are hurting him."  
  
She turned her huge, luminous eyes to his face. "He is going to die, isn't he?"  
  
Alex put his arms around her and held her close. "I don't know, Ziz. I just don't know. Dads called the Med-jai and they're on the way now." His voice dropped as he spoke his deepest fear. "I don't know if they can save him."  
  
Azizah tightened her grip on Alex, grateful for someone to hold on to. "I am afraid." She admitted with a small sob. Alex held her closer and stroked her hair, unable to tell her that he, too, was afraid, terribly afraid. But then he knew that he didn't have to tell her. She could feel his fear as keenly as he could feel hers. Tentatively he opened his mind. Something deep in his subconscious reached out and touched her. He could feel her answering back. They spoke no more, letting their souls speak the words that their tender years had no words for.  
  
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Rick sat unmoving by Ardeth's side. He'd stood back while Khay had stitched the ugly wound closed but returned to his brother's side when it was done. "I can't go through this," he thought to himself. "I can't watch this happen again." Hot tears tracked silently down from his eyes and he buried his face in his hands.

_--Ardeth. Stay with me, brother-- _He sent the thought winging out from his breaking heart and gasped aloud when he heard a response.  
  
_--O'Connell--_  
  
It was faint and weak but it was Ardeth's voice he heard in his head.

_--Ardeth!--_ Rick's mind answered as he fought to control his breathing, knowing that he was still so new at this that any lapse in his attention could break the connection. _--I'm here!--_  
  
_--Who is she?--_  
  
Rick's brow furrowed in thought. _--Who is who?--_  
__

_--The woman . . . --  
_  
After a moment, Rick realized who he meant. He almost laughed aloud. _--Khayriyyah Alaa' al Din,--_ he sent, humor tingeing his reply. Ardeth's shock registered even through the tentative bond. _--That's right, buddy. Your wife.--_  
  
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Khayriyyah carefully poured the powdered silver onto the scales. When she was certain she had the right amount, she poured it into the dish containing the oils the tablets had listed as the correct ones for this ritual. The concoction sputtered and smoked. Khayriyyah and Evy both jumped back as a small white plume lifted from the dish and evaporated into the air. They exchanged a look. "Was that supposed to happen?" Evy asked with nervous smile.  
  
Khayriyyah answered with a tremulous smile of her own. "I have no idea. Let's hope so. What next?"  
  
The two women approached the tablets and resumed their research. "It says that the mixture must be used to trace the words of binding on the wounds. Then the unholy will be sent back to the spirit world forever. Words of binding? Do you know what those are?" Evy's troubled eyes met those of the younger woman.  
  
"Yes. They are here." She pointed to another part of the tablets. "The language is ancient. My hope is that the pronunciation is similar to the way it is today. If it's not, I have no idea what I might be saying."  
  
"Saying?"  
  
Khayriyyah nodded. "The words of binding must be spoken as they are applied. That way, the mummy's spirit is bound both by word and deed."  
  
Evy nodded to show she understood. "Are you ready?" she asked quietly.  
  
Khayriyyah nodded. "I'm ready."  
  
She reached into the healer's bag she'd brought and pulled out a small, leather wrapped bundle. Unrolling it, she revealed a number of small instruments that looked like smaller versions of the tools Safiyah had used when she'd healed these same wounds a year ago. Evy shuddered in remembrance and looked away for a second. When she returned her gaze, Khayriyyah smiled in understanding. "This will not be as bad," she said, trying to reassure her friend. "At least, I don't think it will."  
  
With shaking hands, Khayriyyah took the thin, sharp lancet and the bowl of silver-colored oil and set them on the nightstand while Evy gathered the tablets and laid them on the bed beside Ardeth. Khayriyyah sat down beside the Med-jai king and smoothed her fingers over his face and hair. Even drugged and in pain he was by far the handsomest man she'd ever seen and she felt a fierce feminine pride in the fact that he was hers. She studied his face, letting the perusal of his features calm her. Her thumb ached to caress the fullness of his lower lip and she let it, heedless of the others in the room. Rick glanced up at Evy, a question in his eyes, but she only nodded. It was her way of telling him that she would explain later.  
  
_--My Heart, I am here--_ The words winged away from Khayriyyah's mind with an ease born of several lifetimes of practice.  
  
_--Help me--  
_  
The answering plea brought tears to her eyes and she closed them, concentrating all her effort in relaying comfort and assurance to the man beside her.  
  
_--You will live, my Heart. Be strong for a while longer--  
_  
Khayriyyah sent a wave of her own strength through their bonded souls, giving him what she could without diminishing herself. Ardeth did not respond with words but she felt his strength return somewhat. She took a deep breath and released her grip on his mind.  
  
"I am ready," she said softly as she picked up the lancet and the bowl. Evy held up the tablets so that Khayriyyah could see them and she began to speak even as she began to trace the words over Ardeth's scars in silver. "Ahmhad du barek kreshti ahadlaman. . . "  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Deep within Ardeth's body the mummy's spirit heard the words. It cried out in recognition as the spells that would send it back to the underworld began to pull relentlessly at its tenuous hold on the mortal. Screaming a silent scream of defiance and rage, it fought back.

Sweat beaded on Khayriyyah's face as she fought to maintain control of the stylus. The creature that inhabited Ardeth's body was fighting her, it's fingers lunging up against the force of the spells. Evy and Rick had thrown themselves over Ardeth's shoulders for even as heavily drugged as he was the agony was so great that he thrashed against the force of it. They knew that within Ardeth's body, a battle was taking place and they could only pray that it was one Ardeth would win.  
  
"Gabran et homden homdaiee shret."  
  
Two marks down, two to go. It seemed to Khayriyyah that the spirit's ferocity was waning. Perhaps with each spell in place, it lost some of its power. She could only hope so as she dipped the tapered end of the stylus back into the silver mixture and started the process again.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Ardeth leaned against his scimitar and dragged deep, heaving breaths into his lungs. He was plastered in sweat and his arms ached with the force of the blows he was fending off. In the depths of his mind, he battled the mummy's spirit as he always had, with sword and strength. With the completion of each silver line, the mummy lost ground. If only his strength could hold out for a short time more! For he knew that at the end of this waited the Heart of his Soul.

Here in his subconscious, where all was known and then forgotten, he couldn't count the lifetimes he'd spent waiting for her, but they were all laid out before him like tiles in a mosaic. He knew that he had loved Iman deeply but that this was something different, something he had waited for all his life. He simply hadn't realized it until she walked into the room.  
  
A sound behind him and a rush of fetid air were all the warning he had. The mummy's spirit was on the attack again. "Allah, give me strength," he prayed silently as he raised his scimitar to engage in battle once again.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Alex held Azizah close to him, trying to shut out the sounds of her father's agony with his presence. Every once in a while, when Ardeth's cries were particularly harsh, she would cry out herself and Alex would tighten his grip on her even more.  
  
He had told her stories to take her mind off things. He had promised to show her all the sights of London he could think of, then described them to her in elaborate detail; anything to distract her from the horror down the hall. Finally, out of ideas, he began to hum. It was something his mother had always done when he was upset, something she'd done for as long as he could remember. Azizah seemed to calm as the simple melody carried from his chest to her ear. After a while, Alex began to sing the words  
  
_Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer do.  
_  
_I'm half-crazy all for the love of you.  
_  
He could feel Azizah relax in his arms somewhat.  
  
_It won't be a stylish marriage.  
  
I can't afford a carriage.  
_  
She hiccuped a couple of times; her hand loosed its grip on his nightshirt.  
  
_But you'll look sweet, upon the seat,  
  
of a bicycle built for two.  
_  
Over and over he sang the words until, at last, her head drooped and her breathing evened out. Still, he kept singing, repeating the refrain, stopping only when his own eyes closed in sleep. Allah was merciful. They slept the deep, healing sleep of children and didn't hear the last, hoarse screams of Ardeth Bey as the mummy's spirit was at last ripped from his body and sent spiraling into the underworld, never to return.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight – The Quiet after the Storm  
  
The three of them stood there and stared. It was an easy guess that Khay had never seen the like. For Rick and Evelyn, wrapped in each other's arms, it wasn't the strangest sight they'd ever seen, still they watched with wide-eyed fascination. Watched as the ghostly shape of the mummy emerged from the newly stitched gash in Ardeth's body, rending it open again as it fought the effects of the powerful spells, rotting mouth wide in a silent scream of denial. Watched as the gaping wound then healed itself in a surge of white light and the other scars faded to nothing as the ancient words etched themselves in silver on Ardeth's skin then faded. Watched as Ardeth's body, tight with pain and battle, released itself into unconsciousness.  
  
"My!" Khayriyyah swallowed hard and raised a shaking hand to her throat. "That was something, wasn't it?" Anything else she could have said was forgotten as she was enveloped in Rick O'Connell's strong arms.  
  
"Thank you," he whispered in a hoarse, choked voice. "You saved his life. I can never pay you back for that. Anything you ask, anything you need, ever, it's yours."  
  
Evelyn's arms circled her as well, creating a warm cocoon of strength. "From either of us, Khay. Ardeth means more to us that we can ever say. Thank you."  
  
She raised her face to them, fierce and proud, the light of Ardeth's aura still shimmering in her dark eyes. "Don't you see? I would have done anything, anything, for him. If he had died it would have been . . ." she shrugged, unable to find the words. "He's the Heart of my Soul," she finally said, simply.  
  
Rick stared at her for a moment. "The heart of his soul?" He looked at his wife. "Did I miss something?"  
  
"Khayriyyah is the missing part of Ardeth's soul." The deep voice of Nadhir Alaa' al Din startled them. They'd forgotten Khay's father was even in the room, so wrapped up were they in the task of keeping Ardeth alive.  
  
"The missing part of his soul?" Rick repeated.  
  
"Do remember when Ardeth told you that your being a Med-jai was the missing part of your heart?" Evy reminded him. "That when you embraced it you would complete the empty space inside yourself?" Rick nodded slowly, not sure what she was getting at. "Well, Khay is the missing part of Ardeth's soul." She smiled at him, as if that made perfect sense.  
  
Rick only frowned and looked more confused. "But if she's this heart of the soul thing of his wouldn't she be the missing part of his heart? And not his soul?"  
  
Nadhir laughed lightly. "I will explain it to you, my son, but I think perhaps you might find it makes more sense over a glass of whatever it is you like to drink. Why don't we retire downstairs while the ladies see to things here, and I'll tell the difference between the heart of one's heart and the heart of one's soul."  
  
Rick didn't look convinced. "I think it might take more than one drink," he mused as the two men left the room.  
  
"More than likely, my son!" Alaa' al Din laughed. "More than likely."  
  
For an awkward moment, Khay and Evy said nothing. They simply stood looking at each other. Finally, Evy grinned and opened her arms. Khay gave a laughing sigh and fell into the older woman's embrace. "I couldn't have done it without you, Mrs. O'Connell. Thank you."  
  
Evy hugged her tightly. "Evy. Ardeth is family and since you two seem to be getting together, you're family now too." She pulled away to study her friend. "Oh, my!" she teased. "If you are truly going to marry Ardeth, I think perhaps I'll send along some of those old books when you leave. You'll be doing a lot of cataloging with him for a husband, I can assure you."  
  
It took Khay a moment to remember what she meant, then she, too, laughed. "I imagine he'll be a handful, then?" she asked, her mouth quirked in a tremulous smile.  
  
"I'm afraid so," Evy assured her with a grin. "He's as bad as Rick. Maybe worse. After all, Rick isn't king of the Med-jai."  
  
Khayriyyah paled. "Oh, dear. I'd quite forgotten about that. I can't picture myself as a queen. Oh, Evy! What if I'm a dreadful failure! What if they hate me? I'm an outsider! And they don't know me! And . . . "  
  
"You'll be perfectly fine! They won't hate you. You've saved Ardeth's life, for that alone they'll worship you. And you're not an outsider. You're Med-jai. And regardless of birthplace, Med-jai is Med-jai. Look at Rick. He almost got them all killed. Twice. And they took him in. And I'm the one who raised Imhotep the first time. They didn't toss me out either, thank God. And Alex is Ardeth's heir." She could tell that Khay felt some small comfort in her words so she continued. "Besides, you're sweet and kind and very capable. Just be yourself. You'll be a wonderful queen. And wife. And mother. And I can guarantee you that anything you don't know, Azizah will show you."  
  
"Azizah? Who's that? And don't make me a mother yet! I'm not even married. Well, technically I am but you know what I mean." She was busy looking at Ardeth, imagining what their children might look like and missed Evy's glance.  
  
"You don't know about Azizah?" Evy asked.  
  
"No. Is she someone in the palace?"  
  
"You might say that," Evy mused more to herself than to Khay. Then she took Khay's hand and led her to one of the room's small sofas.  
  
Khay sensed her concern and hesitated. "What? What is it?"  
  
Evy looked away for a moment. "I must tell you about Azizah. You need to know. I can't believe they didn't tell you already."  
  
A horrible thought struck through Khayriyyah. "Oh, no! He's got a wife already! I knew his first wife had died but I didn't realize he'd remarried. No one told me!"  
  
"No! Not that!" Evy pulled at her hand and forced her to sit. "Azizah is not Ardeth's wife. She is his daughter."  
  
It took a moment for Khay to adjust her thoughts from wife to daughter. "A daughter? Ardeth has a daughter? But his son was killed when his wife was. No one said anything about a daughter."  
  
Evy told Khay about the circumstances of Azizah's birth. "How terrible!" Khay exclaimed, tears shining in her midnight eyes.  
  
"So you see, Azizah is very special. The tribe doesn't want anyone on the outside to know she exists. They feel it is safer for her."  
  
The younger woman was thoughtful for a moment. "What is she like? Is she here?"  
  
Evy nodded. "Rick and I adore her and I expect you'll be meeting her tomorrow. Now, I should go and make sure that your father doesn't get my husband too drunk. Although, after what we've been through tonight, maybe I'll join him. At any rate, I'll bring in a dressing gown and some toiletries for you as I expect you'll be staying for the night."  
  
Khay nodded. "Thank you."  
  
"Try and get some sleep, if you can. I'll be up in a while." Evy closed the door softly behind her and left Khayriyyah alone with Ardeth for the first time. She walked slowly over the bed and looked down at the man who was to be her husband, the man for whom she'd searched over many lifetimes.  
  
She reached out a tentative hand and rubbed a strand of his midnight hair between her fingers.  
  
"So soft!" she whispered.  
  
Her eyes traveled down over the tattooed chest and lean torso accentuated by hard muscle. A smear of blood in the distinct shape of a skeletal hand marred his stomach and the sight of it brought a frown to her face. Khay reached for a cloth from the table and wiped away all traces of the night's work. She also noticed that a faint silver sheen still wavered about the now almost invisible scars.  
  
"These marks nearly took your life twice," she said quietly to the sleeping man, "but I am grateful for them. For if it had not been for the mummy's curse, I would not have met you, my Heart." Tears slipped down her cheeks as the enormity of the past few hours settled on her shoulders. "I could have lost you after having only just found you." She knew that somewhere in the depth of his consciousness, Ardeth heard her. "To lose you would have been death for us both. For I could not have gone on knowing that the Heart of my Soul was lost to me for another lifetime."  
  
Ardeth stirred, and Khay stroked his hair, calming him back into restfulness. "I'm here, my Heart. I'm here," she whispered. "And here I will stay." 


	9. Chapter 9

RATING WARNING: The second half of this chapter is rated R for sexual content. Please have ice water or a cold shower available. ;-)

Chapter Nine – Souls Entwined  
  
Khay woke with the feeling one gets when one realizes they aren't in the same place they were when they fell asleep. She opened her eyes and looked at the man beside her. For a moment, she lay still, trying to figure out how she came to be in the bed with Ardeth Bey. Once her brain shook off the fuzz of sleep, she realized that she'd climbed in next to him during the night. He'd been restless, dreaming, and her presence seemed to quiet him. His presence quieted her as well, she admitted. So there she was, lying on her side next to him with her hand on his chest.  
  
Still, Khay had the feeling that something wasn't quite right. She closed her eyes and let her other senses fly, searching for any clues as to what the disturbance might be. The room was quiet. Ardeth's deep, even breathing the only sound she could hear. She opened her eyes once more let her gaze circle the room. The chamber was bathed in the gray shadows of coming dawn, but nothing looked out of place. Finally, she recognized the feeling that teased at the back of her neck. She was being watched. Khay sat up and peered deeper into the shadows. Finally, in the shadowy recesses of the large armchair by the bed, she saw her.  
  
Azizah. Her mind made the connection quickly for the small girl was most definitely Ardeth's child. Her curling hair and fuller lower lip was all the confirmation Khay needed. She smiled at her as she eased out of the bed and put on her dressing gown but Azizah only blinked at her curiously.  
  
"Come with me," Khay whispered, opening the bedroom door and motioning for Azizah to follow. The child didn't comply right away; instead, she climbed onto the bed and put a small hand to her father's face, as if to assure herself he was still there. She then lay her head on his chest and only when she was satisfied that his heart beat steady and sure did she climb down and join Khay in the hall.  
  
Quietly, they descended the stairs. Khay stopped at the library and beckoned Azizah inside. "Shall we talk in here?" she asked.  
  
Azizah still didn't speak but she entered the room and perched herself at the end of the large sofa. Khay took up the other end and the two of them regarded each other in silence. Khay had the distinct feeling she was being weighed in those long moments. Azizah's sharp gaze never left her face and Khay would later swear that the girl was taking the very measure of her soul.  
  
"You are the healer." The words came out of a silence so deep that Khay actually started slightly.  
  
"I am," she replied.  
  
"Did you make my Babu well again?"  
  
"I did. With the help of Mrs. O'Connell."  
  
"Aunt Evy is very smart. She is a very good helper."  
  
Khay smiled at the girl's earnest affirmation of Evy's intelligence. "Yes, she is."  
  
"She is the curator of the Museum and that is a very important job." It was clear that Azizah was quite impressed by her 'aunt'.  
  
"I know. I work for her. I'm your Aunt Evy's secretary." Khay wanted to smile again at the perplexed frown that creased Azizah's forehead but she forced her lips into a neutral line.  
  
"You work at the Museum? For Aunt Evy? But I thought you were a healer?"  
  
"I am a healer. And I work at the museum. I do both."  
  
This clearly impressed the girl. "I did not know one could do both." She thought about that some more. Then, "What is a sec-sec tra crary?"  
  
Khay did smile at that. "Secretary," she said the word slowly. "It just means that I'm Evy's helper. I write letters and keep her schedule and things like that."  
  
"Oh!" Azizah rolled her eyes in a show of great understanding. "You are a scribe."  
  
"You could say that."  
  
The child frowned again. "I just did."  
  
It took great effort but Khay did not laugh. Instead, she changed the subject. "You are Azizah, aren't you? Evy told me about you. She says you a very special little girl."  
  
"Uncle O'Connell says I am a tempest in a teapot," Azizah offered, "but I have never been in a teapot, I am far too big."  
  
Khay did laugh at that. She couldn't help it. "Much too big," she agreed.  
  
Azizah grew still again, her eyes once more studying the woman across from her. "What is your name," she asked after a long moment.  
  
"Khay... Khayriyyah. Khayriyyah Alaa' al Din."  
  
"You are the one they have chosen for my father." It was almost an accusation.  
  
"I am."  
  
Azizah's chin came up defiantly. "I will not let anyone have my father who is not worthy."  
  
"And you shouldn't."  
  
"He will not choose someone without my help."  
  
"And he shouldn't."  
  
"You agree with me?" Azizah was unsure. Although the Med-jai respected her position, she was still a child and adults tended to treat children as if they had no idea what they were talking about.  
  
"I do. It is important for you to accept this person as much as your father must. I only hope that you will give me a chance to prove myself worthy because...."  
  
"Because why?" The girl's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
  
"Because I find that I love him, Azizah. I think I have always loved him. He is the Heart of My Soul. Do you know what that is?"  
  
A bright green fire flashed in Azizah's eyes. "I know what it is."  
  
"Then I ask you to give me a chance to show you that I am worthy. For I would die if I could not be with him."  
  
"You would do that? You would give him up if I do not approve?"  
  
Khay's heart sank. Her initial impression of Azizah was that she was not a petty child. She hated to think she was wrong. "I would have to. I could not be with him knowing that it made you unhappy. I am the Heart of his Soul, but you are his child. That is a bond that I would not even try to upset."  
  
Azizah grew very quiet. "Babu has no family but me. There is grandmother, but she is not here." Silence filled the room, a silence that seemed to grow with each passing second. Eventually, Azizah raised her eyes to Khayriyyah and Khayriyyah felt as if her very soul was exposed. Deeper and deeper she sank into the depths of Azizah's gaze, almost as if she were being hypnotized. Suddenly, Azizah smiled the bright winning smile of her father and Khayriyyah knew that she had been tested and found worthy by this tiny Med-jai daughter. Her heart breathed a sigh of relief. "Will you say the words, Khayriyyah?" Azizah asked.  
  
Khayriyyah swallowed and moved to kneel before Azizah, her dark eyes never leaving the girl's lighter ones. "Azizah Bey, I, Khayriyyah Alaa' al Din, humbly ask for the honor of being wife to your father."  
  
Azizah lay a small hand on Khayriyyah's shoulder. "I accept you, Khayriyyah Alaa' al Din as wife to my father. From now until all eternity shall you be Khayriyyah Bey. Clan of my clan, tribe of my tribe, wife to my father, and mother of my heart."  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
_"Khayriyyah."  
  
Her name fell from his lips like water from a fountain, soft and musical. In her dream she heard him calling her. She turned her head toward the sound and saw him as he surely must be in life. Tall, strong clad in the black robes of the Med-jai, his hair flowing long behind him in the desert breeze.  
  
"Khayriyyah, my Heart. Come to me."  
  
She walked toward him smiling. "My Heart," she called to him, "I come."  
  
She reached up her hand as his reached down, and he swung her up to sit before him on the huge black stallion.  
  
"I have waited many lifetimes for you, my Heart," he said, his deep voice husky against her ear.  
  
A shiver of delight ran from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. "And I, you," she whispered as his lips lowered to claim hers.  
  
She closed her eyes in anticipation but nothing happened. She opened her eyes with a frown. Ardeth was no longer sitting astride the magnificent horse. He was gone.  
_  
Khayriyyah awoke with a jolt, almost spilling off the chair. Her wide eyes flew to the bed. Despite two days at Ardeth's bedside, she needed to reassure herself that Ardeth was real, was still there. She gasped aloud and rose to her feet when she realized that the bed was empty.  
  
"My apologies. It was not my intention to wake you."  
  
The deep husky voice of her dream came from the far side of the bed, the side hidden in shadows by the dim light and bed hangings. It took but a second for Khay's eyes to adjust and she saw him.   
  
Ardeth leaned heavily against the bedpost, a fine sheen of sweat on his body the only evidence of the effort he was expending just standing there. All romantic dreams of their first real meeting fled as her healing instincts kicked in.  
  
"What do you think you're doing!?" she shrieked. "Get back in that bed. Get back in that bed this instant!" Without any real idea of how she got there, Khayriyyah found herself at Ardeth's side, pulling ineffectively at his powerful arms as she tried to lead him back to bed.  
  
A soft, hoarse chuckle penetrated the fog that blanketed her. She looked up at him and could only stare. He was smiling at her, his white teeth flashing against the black of his beard, his light eyes glimmering with sparks of humor. Khayriyyah was completely blind-sided. Never in her entire life had she ever seen anyone so handsome. "And he's mine!" she thought triumphantly, unable to stop a feline grin from pulling at her mouth.  
  
Ardeth's eyes widened slightly as he watched the slow sexy smile spread across her face. He wasn't sure what caused the look but something in his gut told him he was better off not knowing. Instead he simply looked his fill. Her eyes were dark, almost black, framed by long lashes. A fine, straight nose and full mouth were complemented by the black hair that fringed her face and swung jauntily at her shoulders.  
  
He watched her lips move and blinked, realizing that she'd spoken.  
  
"My apologies, I didn't . . . " He stumbled over the words "like a love struck youth!" he thought. Her light silky laugh seemed to fill the room.  
  
"I said 'you really ought to get back in bed'. Where do you think you're going, anyway? You can barely stand."  
  
He nodded, accepting her observation. "I am sorry to cause you such dismay. However, I find the need to relieve myself."  
  
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ardeth regretted them, wishing there were some other way to put the situation. The Egyptian Med-jai were very open about bodily functions but he wasn't so sure about the outer tribes.  
  
Khayriyyah groaned and clapped a hand against her forehead. "Of course you do! Khay, you are an idiot. Now come along, lean on me, and we'll get you taken care of straight away."  
  
Before he could think of anything else to say, Khayriyyah had an arm around his waist and was leading him toward the bathroom. She'd taken his considerable weight on her shoulders and to her credit only stumbled slightly as they started off.  
  
"Now then," she said as she transferred his bulk from her shoulder to the wall nearest the toilet, "I'll leave you alone for a moment, if you think you'll be alright?"  
  
Ardeth nodded and she hurried out, careful to leave the door open a bit should he need her help. She straightened the bed sheets and turned them down, her hands lingering over the still warm places where his body had lain. A thrill coursed through her as she considered what would pass between them as husband and wife for although she was a virgin, she was well versed in the pleasures of the flesh.  
  
The Med-jai were a very open society where sex was concerned. Their young women didn't go ignorant into marriage and were instructed in the many ways of physical pleasure before they sought out a mate. And the thought of Ardeth's tall, lean body stretched against hers was enough to make Khayriyyah quiver.  
  
After a few moments of sensual fantasizing, she returned to the bathroom. A burst of steam and the sound of running water greeted her as she pushed open the door. Ardeth sat on the side of the bathtub, leaning against the wall behind him while hot water splashed into the tub. He looked up as she entered and smiled.  
  
Khayriyyah narrowed her eyes and propped her fists on her hips. "A bath?"  
  
Ardeth shrugged. "I feel the need for one," he answered, still smiling.  
  
"You need to go back to bed," Khayriyyah countered, her lips pursed defiantly.  
  
"I will rest easier when I have removed the sweat from my skin. I fear my horse smells better than I."  
  
She studied him a moment, then sighed resignedly. "Very well. I'll help you bathe. But then you will go to bed." She began unbuttoning her blouse. Ardeth's eyebrows rose in an unspoken question. "I'm removing my shirt so it doesn't get all wet," she explained. "Besides, I've still got my underthings on so it's perfectly respectable."  
  
"Respectable?" Ardeth asked playfully, his eyes falling to the thin chemise that covered her ample breasts.  
  
"Yes. I mean, we are two persons of the opposite sex. We shouldn't be alone together to intimately."  
  
"Ah, but you forget, Khayriyyah, you are not just any person. You are my wife."  
  
She would never, for as long as she lived, forget the way her name sounded when Ardeth spoke it for the first time. Khayriyyah. His deep, husky voice made it sound magical and mysterious and she felt empowered as a woman for the first time. So caught up was she in the way her name sounded when coming from his lips that she almost didn't realize the second part of what he said. Wife. He'd called her his wife.  
  
"I...I'm your . . . " she stuttered, her mouth unable to form the words.  
  
"My wife, Khayriyyah, and more than my wife. The heart of my soul. We both know it. Nothing can separate us now that we have found each other. We are bound to one another forever." Ardeth forced himself upright, his legs protesting the effort it took to stand. He pulled her close to him and put a gentle hand under her chin, forcing her eyes up to meet his. "Khayriyyah," he said her name again, feeling the way it rolled off his tongue, "look at me, my heart."  
  
Khayriyyah raised her eyes to his and knew that what he said was true. She was his. He was hers. There would be no turning back for either of them. Any thoughts they had harbored of getting out of this paper marriage had vanished the moment she'd stepped over the threshold two days before.   
  
"My heart," she said quietly.  
  
Then his mouth lowered to hers. Nothing could prepare Khayriyyah for the soft sensuality of Ardeth's kiss. His lips moved against hers, gently at first, then more urgently as they were both caught up in the maelstrom of passion that ignited when their mouths met. Her arms moved around his back as his hands came up to cup her head, his fingers entwining in her hair. Ardeth pulled her head to one side and slid his tongue across the tender flesh of her neck. Khayriyyah moaned as he sucked and nipped at the skin along her chin, then slid across her parted lips, tasting her briefly before returning to the warm cavity of her mouth. There, tongues met in a slow, sensual dance of exploration before they tore away from each other, gasping for breath.  
  
She felt his legs give way an instant before his weight fell heavy on her shoulders. Khayriyyah helped him to sit again on the side of the tub.  
  
"I had no idea my kisses had that effect on a man," she laughed, her voice shaky with what had passed between them.  
  
For an instant, Ardeth's eyes darkened and his hand shot out, grasping her behind the neck and bringing her face close to his. "I will allow no other man to touch you in this way," he ordered in a voice hoarse with passion. "I will kill any man who dares."  
  
Somewhere deep in her mind, Khayriyyah knew she should be afraid of this jealous man but the newfound power flowing through her veins wouldn't let her. She knew that no other man could affect her like this, knew that she would never desire another man. She also knew that she felt the same way.  
  
"And I will kill any woman who dares the same."  
  
"We are agreed then, wife," he asked her without asking.  
  
Khayriyyah didn't hesitate. "We are agreed then, my husband."  
  
A mischievous look spread across his handsome face. "In that case, you are allowed to assist me at my bath."  
  
She smiled and leaned across him to turn off the faucet. A shock went through him at the feel of her lush, full breasts brushing against his arms.  
  
She ran her hand lazily through the water, taking her time in straightening up again.  
  
"The water is just right. Shall we get you undressed?" She stood up and helped him to stand. Her hands slipped slowly down his sides to the top of his loose pants. With deft fingers she undid the drawstring and the black cloth slid to the floor. As he stepped free of the garment, her gaze traveled over his lean, muscular frame and lingered at the hard evidence of his desire for her. A rush of lust ran down her spine and pooled in her lower belly at the thought of that hardness pressed against her. Khayriyyah met his eyes and knew that before the night was over, she'd be his totally and completely in all ways. She smiled at him, another sexy smile that made his heart race as she helped him into the steaming water.  
  
"I don't want to get this wet," she said coyly as she shimmied out of her skirt and hung it over the towel bar. Then she slipped her slip off her shoulders and over her head. The satiny material pooled like white water on the floor. She sat on the edge of the sink and rolled her stockings down very slowly while Ardeth watched with hot eyes. When she was clad only in her chemise and panties, she knelt beside the tub.  
  
"You said something about wanting to be clean?" she asked, a bar of soap and a sponge in her hand. Ardeth nodded and watched as she rolled the soap back and forth across the sponge, sending frothy bubbles sliding down her wrists. When she was satisfied she had enough soap, she motioned for Ardeth to move forward so she could reach his back. With strong fingers, she massaged his tired muscles while cleaning the sweat from his body. The hot water quickly relaxed the Med-jai and he fell under the spell of her skilled hands. When she'd finished his back, she moved to the end of the tub and picked up one of Ardeth's feet. From his toes to his knees she slid the sponge up and down his strong legs. Then did the same with the other leg. By the time she reached his broad chest he was completely relaxed, his eyes closed, damp lashes just brushing the tattoos against his cheeks.  
  
"Let me wash your hair," she whispered, her fingers eager to bury themselves deep in the satin softness of his black tresses. Khayriyyah helped Ardeth lean back in the tub and supported his neck with one hand while she wetted his hair with the other. A dab of musky scented shampoo and soon her hands were stroking against his scalp, the satin strands of Ardeth's impossibly soft hair falling over her fingers while she worked. When he was rinsed an the water cooling, she helped him stand up again and wrapped him in a large towel, then she led him to the bed and sat him on the edge while she sat behind him, drying his hair.  
  
"Feel better?" she asked quietly as she rubbed the black, now curling strands with the towel.  
  
"Mmmm," was all Ardeth could manage at the moment. The feel of her drying his body was both soothing and exciting and he wondered how long he could stand the dual pressure before either falling asleep or taking her in his arms. Khayriyyah reached around him and applied the towel to his chest. He felt the soft fullness of her breasts pressing against his back and decided he'd take her in his arms after all. In a heartbeat, he turned and had her pressed on her back against the mattress, his length covering her from top to bottom.  
  
"Oh!" Khayriyyah gasped as she found herself staring up in to Ardeth's face over hers. Her eyes darkened with passion and she could feel her pulse begin to race. This is exactly what she wanted and she wasn't going to play coy now. "Hello, there," she said in a voice husky with desire.  
  
The heat in Ardeth's eyes matched her own. "Hello." His deep voice thrummed against her chest then there were no more words as his lips crushed down on hers. Their first kiss was nothing compared to the hot, passionate meeting of their mouths this time. Tongues entwined, hands grasped at hair as they pulled each other closer, trying to get as little space between them as was physically possible. Flesh touched flesh and Ardeth found that even the small sections of cloth that made up her undergarments were too much.  
  
"Remove these," he ordered huskily, indicating her remaining clothing and he rolled off her and waited.  
  
Khayriyyah sat up slowly then knelt beside this powerful warrior of hers. There was no smile now, only the hot passionate fire of her gaze as she reached up and unlaced the chemise she wore. With a shrug of her shoulders the garment fell free and dropped to the floor. At the sight of her magnificent bosom, Ardeth licked his lips unconsciously. She was magnificent. Her breasts were large but firm. Enough for a man to get his hands around and still have enough left to explore for a lifetime. Her nipples stood forth proud and ready and his passion flared as he waited for the second he could close his lips around the tight peaks. He watched as she slid off the bed and removed her panties. Her plump body beckoned a man's hands to wander and the dark triangle of curls at the junction of her thighs begged to be explored. Ardeth waited as she kneeled next to him once more, then he kneeled before her and took her face in his hands.  
  
"You are more beautiful than I could have imagined," he whispered huskily as his eyes drank in the sight of her. His strong hands lifted to her waist and slid up her side to cup the undersides of her breasts. Thumbs crept up to caress the erect nipples and at the feel of his fingers on her flesh, Khayriyyah's head fell back and her eyes closed. "Yes," she groaned, unaware that she'd even spoken. Then Ardeth's hands were at her back and his head was bent forward. Almost worshipfully he brushed his lips against one tight pink bud, then followed with his tongue. Khayriyyah's sharp intake of breath was all the encouragement he needed and his mouth opened wide and he sucked as much of her into his mouth as he could.  
  
Khayriyyah had never felt anything like the liquid heat that filled her belly at the touch of Ardeth's hot wet mouth on her skin. Of their own accord, her hands found the back of his head and she pressed him closer to her, urging him to suckle harder. She felt herself grow damp between her legs and wanted nothing else but to feel his fingers against the damp flesh of her womanhood. As if hearing her unspoken request, Ardeth lay her down, his mouth never leaving her breasts, and ran a hand up her thigh. His fingers twined through her curls for a moment then he groaned. "Open for me, my flower."  
  
Without hesitation, Khayriyyah opened her legs and his fingers slid into the wet heat of her core. It was her turn to moan as he rubbed against her, two fingers split to caress either side of the hard bud that was the center of her sex.  
  
"Ardeth." His name was a soft plea of want and desire. He knew what she needed, what her body craved from him so he set a tempo with his fingers, sliding up across the tight nub and then plunging deep inside her where he would soon rest his shaft. Again and again he plundered the sweet heat of her womanhood until she rose up against his hand, her body begging for the climax that only he could bring her. He felt the stiffening of her body, heard the cry of pleasure that fell from her lips and at that moment Ardeth pulled her up so she straddled him and drove himself into the still convulsing tightness at her center.  
  
Khayriyyah gasped, not so much in pain but in surprise that the large length of his shaft fit inside her. He waited a moment for her body to adjust to him then began to guide her hips up and down in a slow pace that drove her to still another frenzied peak.  
  
"Khayriyyah, my ameerah, yes, oh, yes!" he encouraged as she moved above him. He had never felt anything like the tight fit of her around his throbbing manhood. He wanted nothing more than to pour himself into her but he waited, holding back until she was with him, until she was ready to explode again for him while he was deep inside her. His lips found hers and their tongues mated as did their bodies. And when he felt he could hold back no longer, the racking convulsions started deep within her and she called out his name as he called out hers, and they came together in a moment of sheer physical perfection that lasted for many heartbeats.  
  
When her breathing had slowed, Khayriyyah realized she was curled against Ardeth's body, his arm wrapped around her, her head resting on his chest. She had no idea how she'd managed to end up there but knew in her heart that it was the place she was meant to be. She looked up him only to find him gazing down at her.  
  
"Now, you are truly my wife," he said quietly.  
  
Khayriyyah took his hand and brought it to her lips. She entwined her fingers with his. "And you, Ardeth Bey, are my husband."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten – The Gift  
  
"You will not wear that."  
  
Khay looked down at the vibrant red evening gown she was modeling for her husband. "Why ever not?" she asked.  
  
"It is unbecoming for the queen of the Med-jai. You will not wear it."  
  
Khay felt her blood begin to boil. After spending so many hours at his bedside willing him to get better, she was now wishing he'd stayed bedridden until after the museum's gala reception. Khay had been shopping all day with Evy looking for a decent dress and now that she'd found it, Ardeth was protesting. It didn't help matters that she didn't care for the dress. It was too much.  
  
She was tired and hungry, not to mention the fact that she was just plain nervous. This reception was not only her final duty as Evy's secretary but it was her first foray into public as Ardeth's wife. She wanted to make a nice impression. And she wanted him to be impressed, too. The dress was perfect and she told him so.   
  
"It is also improper for a member of the museum staff to be improperly dressed at a major social function, Ardeth! And I don't see what you're complaining about! The dress isn't cut too low in front, the sleeves cover my arms past my elbows. Do you know how hard it is to find an evening dress that covers as much as this one does? Impossible! I tried on hundreds of dresses and this was all I could find. I'm sorry you don't approve of it but it will just have to do!" Having said that, she promptly burst into tears.  
  
She felt Ardeth's warm, strong arms surround her. In a way, she wanted his comfort but she also felt that he was the source of her problem right now. He really didn't understand how hard it was to find something in her size for evening. She wasn't trim and petite like Evy and not all clothiers catered to her buxom build. She had literally tried on every gown in every decent store in London before finding this one. And with the reception only two days away, it wasn't like she had time to have another dress made. Ardeth would simply have to like this one. That thought alone made her cry even harder. She'd so desperately wanted him to be proud of her, proud of how she looked, when she appeared in public on his arm the first time but that seemed impossible now.  
  
"My heart, do not weep so. It is not the dress I object to, truly."  
  
"But you just said..." she blubbered.  
  
"The dress itself is lovely, habibah. However, the color..."  
  
"It's the only color I could find!" Khay whined, knowing she was whining but unable to stop herself.  
  
"For that I am sorry, but you must...Khayriyyah..." Ardeth stopped, not quite sure how to explain this so that she would understand when inspiration struck. "Have you ever seen a Med-jai wear red?"  
  
"Wh...what?" Khay paused in her weeping, taken off guard by the strange question.  
  
"Have you ever seen a Med-jai wear red? Any Med-jai."  
  
Her brow furrowed as she searched her memory for an answer. "Well, no," she admitted with a sniff. "I haven't." She raised wet, red eyes to her husband. "I never thought about it before. Why is that?"  
  
"Do you know of the Ahmar Haris?"  
  
"The Red Guard? Yes. They were the temple guards who protected the priests of ancient Egypt just as the Med-jai protected the Pharaohs."  
  
Ardeth nodded. "They put the lives of their priests above all else. It was the Ahmar Haris who aided Imhotep and his priests in their quest to restore Anck su namun to life. It is the Ahmar Haris who strive, to this day, to return him to power."  
  
"The sworn enemies of the Med-jai." Khay shook her head. "I'm such an idiot, Ardeth. I'm sorry. I really had no idea. I never put the two concepts together."  
  
Ardeth put a finger under his wife's chin and raised her face until her eyes met his. "Never," he warned softly, "call yourself an idiot in my presence." Then he kissed her, tenderly.  
  
Khay sighed and lifted her arms to encircle his back. She couldn't stay mad. No matter how hard she might try, she couldn't be angry with him for long. All he had to do was kiss her and she melted like butter on an August day.  
  
After a long moment, Ardeth broke the kiss and placed his lips on her forehead. "I have something for you," he murmured against her skin. Then his warm arms were gone and Khay shivered in the sudden absence of his warmth.  
  
She watched as he pulled a large box from closet and laid it on the bed. His eyes glittered as he stepped away and a hint of a mischievous smile played at the corners of his generous mouth.  
  
"I hope you are not angry with me when you open it," he teased. "I was not aware how you were going to spend your day until you were already gone."  
  
Khay wondered about that as she slowly approached the bed. He wasn't aware of how she was going to spend her day until she was already gone? What did he mean by that? And what could be in the box that might make her angry. Her dark eyes met his hesitantly as her fingers caressed the cool boxboard.  
  
"What's in it, Ardeth?"  
  
"Open it." To her great surprise, her calm and collected warrior was practically dancing with anticipation. His eyes glittered and he kept bouncing forward on the balls of his feet. Had his hands not been clasped together behind his back, she imagined his fingers would be flittering.  
  
Khay giggled at the thought of the stoic Med-jai king fidgeting. She gave Ardeth a sideways glance, then pulled open the ribbons that kept the box closed. Slowly, she lifted the lid, then pulled up the paper wrapping.  
  
Her eyes slowly grew very wide and a small sound of awe and surprise escaped her mouth. She could feel Ardeth come and stand next to her, so close he was that she could feel his breath against her hair.  
  
"I hope you are not disappointed. I was unaware you'd had so much trouble finding a gown on your own."  
  
Khay said nothing, she only stared. In the box was a dress. A dress of the most brilliant indigo she had ever seen. "Med-jai blue." She didn't realize that the thought had escaped her mind and crossed her lips.  
  
Ardeth reached out and pulled the dress from the box. It unfolded in wave after sensuous wave of bright blue silk. Translucent crystal beads covered the gown from the high waistline to the hem. They hung like stars in the black lace overlay and caught the light, sending sparkling drops of light dancing across the walls. The elbow-length sleeves boasted more of the cut crystal beads, and they dangled from the flared ends like delicate icicles. Longer ones hung from a thin black ribbon that ran shoulder to shoulder, creating a built-in necklace, which framed the sweetheart neckline. Khay reached out a trembling finger and gently touched the dangling gems, setting them swaying.  
  
"I was unsure of what colors you liked. I picked this because..." Ardeth's voice trailed off. "I a sorry if I presumed." His disappointment was palpable.  
  
"I'm not disappointed," Khay gasped, still unable to believe this incredible garment was hers. "I'm... I'm...Oh, Ardeth!" She threw herself into his arms, crushing the dress between them.  
  
Tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks and smeared on his as she covered his face with kisses. "It's beautiful! It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" She held him at arm's length and gave him a beaming smile. He smiled back, his love for her and joy in her delight at his gift evident in his eyes.  
  
"Oh, Ardeth!" Khay said again as she backed away to better admire the elegant lines of the dress, tears still flowing down her face.  
  
"I don't know, brother. I think a tux would be more appropriate but if you really want to wear that..." Rick's lips twitched in barely concealed amusement as he gestured at Ardeth who still held the dress.  
  
"Rick!" Khay turned toward the door and hurriedly wiped away the tears with her hand. "Isn't it beautiful!"  
  
"Yeah, but I think it'd look a lot better on you."  
  
Ardeth turned to his brother. "If Khay had not already decided she liked it, I would have to say it would look best shoved down your throat," he remarked blandly.  
  
"Yeah, but then the pretty beads wouldn't show."  
  
"Neither would your attempts at humor."  
  
"Now, children," Evy warned with a straight face as she shoved past Rick into the room, "that's enough."  
  
"King," Rick muttered under his breath by way of insult.  
  
"American," Ardeth muttered back.  
  
"I mean it! If you don't stop it..."  
  
Rick leaned against her with a lecherous smile. "If we don't stop - what?"  
  
"You'll have to sleep with Alex."  
  
Her husband made a face. "Ouch. He kicks."  
  
Evy smiled. "Tell me about it. You didn't carry him for nine months."  
  
"And Ardeth?" Khay wanted to know. "What if he doesn't behave? I really should know these things if I'm to keep him in line."  
  
"Oh, Ardeth, he's easy." Evy smirked.  
  
"I am?"  
  
"No dessert."  
  
Rick guffawed as a fleeting look of horror crossed the Med-jai's face and then vanished. They all teased him about Azizah's sweet tooth but the truth was she came by it naturally.  
  
Khayriyyah turned to her husband with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I'll remember that." She took the dress from him with a quick kiss on his cheek and whirled around to face Evy. "Isn't is gorgeous? Isn't just perfect?" she gushed.  
  
Evy smiled approvingly. "Oh, Khay, it's incredible! But, that's not the dress we brought home. Wherever did you get it?"  
  
"Ardeth," Khay breathed softly as she sent a liquid glance his way. "He had it made."  
  
"Ardeth had it made?" Evy was incredulous. "Ardeth, I had no idea."  
  
"And who do you think chose your clothing for the Garden City?" he asked with a crooked grin. "My horse?"  
  
"You chose all those lovely garments? Ardeth, you impress me more every day." Then Evy turned to her husband. "YOU, on the other hand..." she teased.  
  
"Would you look at the time!" Rick exclaimed in mock horror as he consulted his obviously empty wrist. "I gotta go. Gotta see a man about a camel." He vanished down the hall with laughter in his wake.  
  
Evy sighed. "I'd better go see what the kids are up to. I left them with Jonathan and, well, you know how that can go."  
  
"Oh, Evy!" Khay offered contritely as she gently put the dress aside. "I'll go."  
  
"No. I think you should stay here and try on your dress. I'll see to the children. All three of them. Unless Rick is there. Then it's all four of them." Evy laughed gaily as she waved goodbye to the couple and closed the door.  
  
For a moment after the door closed, neither Khay nor Ardeth moved. They simply stared at each other, still amazed and awed at the newness of their bond, of their feelings toward each other.  
  
Finally, Ardeth spoke. "Will you try on your gift, habibah?"  
  
Khayriyyah nodded and lifted the dress into her arms. With a shy smile, she went into the bathroom and closed the door. For several long moments Ardeth waited nervously. He was certain he had her measurements correctly but he was still anxious to see if the dress fit as perfectly as his memory of her. Then, when he thought he could stand it no longer, the door slowly opened and Khayriyyah stepped out.  
  
The dress did fit perfectly. The bodice hugged her generous bosom and then slipped in to caress her waist before flaring out over full hips. Khay turned slowly to allow him a full view of the sumptuous creation, then stood in front of the full-length mirror, admiring the beautiful creation she wore.  
  
"It's beautiful," she sighed as her fingers danced lightly over the beaded gown.  
  
"Not nearly so beautiful as the one who wears it."  
  
Khay blushed at the compliment. "How did you know?" she asked his reflection as he came to stand behind her. "How did you know my size? You never measured me that I can recall."  
  
Ardeth's eyes glinted with sensual fire that no mirror's reflection could mask. "I have measured you every night these past nights we've been together, habibah." He rested his hands on her hips. "I have spanned every inch of you and I know you as well as I know myself." His eyes never left hers as his strong tattooed fingers moved up to her waist. "I know how many hand lengths across your waist," his hands climbed upward even more. "I know how many hand widths around your breasts."  
  
Khay's breath caught in her throat as his sensual mirror play continued. She could see his face as his hands wandered over her body, as his fingers rubbed at the nipples tightening under the layers of cloth. She could feel the evidence of his desire against her backside as he pressed closer and watched his progress in the tall glass.  
  
"Just as I know where to touch you to make you shudder in my arms."  
  
She saw his face move downward, felt his beard brush her neck even as she watched it happen before her. Only when his lips began their hungry assault on the sensitive hollow of her throat did her eyes flutter shut and her senses give way to other delights.  
  
The door banging open and hitting the wall startled them both and they jumped.  
  
"Oh, Ahmay!" Azizah exclaimed with one hand dramatically clutched to her chest. "It is beautiful! Aunt Evy said you were trying it on and I wasn't to disturb you but I had to see! Babu said it was the loveliest dress ever and that I wasn't to say anything because it was a surprise but I only saw it in the box. Babu would not hold it up for me to see because he said he would never be able to fold it properly again but I could tell it was the most beautiful dress I have ever seen and I couldn't wait to see it on you. Oh, Ahmay! You will surely be the most beautiful woman there!"   
  
Small arms encircled Khay's waist and squeezed exuberantly. Khay laughed and looked down to see her daughter's happy face shining up at her. From the moment Azizah had accepted her as Ardeth's wife, she had called her Ahmay.  
  
"Ahmay? What is that?" Jonathan had asked that first night. "It's not Arabic or Egyptian, is it?"  
  
"It's Med-jai, Uncle Jon," Alex explained with rolling eyes. "Honestly, haven't you learned anything in all this time?"  
  
"Alex," his mother warned, "don't be impertinent. Your uncle is still your elder."  
  
Rick snorted. "In what way?"  
  
Evy smacked his knuckles with her butter knife. "You behave. No wonder your son has the manners of a digger. Jonathan, Ahmay is mother in the Med-jai language. Well, not mother exactly, a more familiar derivative, like Mama or Mommy."  
  
Khayriyyah's heart swelled with love and pride each time she heard Azizah call her by the name she had used for her own mother as a child. It felt nice to be someone's mother. She pulled far enough away from her daughter to kneel at her level. "I'm glad you like it, darling. I want to be worthy of you and your father."  
  
Azizah laughed. "Oh, Ahmay! You are so silly. You are already worthy of us. I would not have chosen you if you weren't." And with those very matter-of- fact words, she skipped away, leaving the door gaping open behind her. 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven – Evil Intentions  
  
Spencer Milton and Victor Croft had spent hours trying to find Ardeth Bey. They'd contacted everyone Milton and Bey had gone to school with who might have seen or heard from him but to no avail. They had connected with everyone who sold information in every slum in London but none of them had heard of the tall, tattooed man. Ardeth Bey, as far as London was concerned, did not exist.  
  
"It's goddamn hopeless, you know," Croft mused over a glass of Milton's very expensive brandy. "Bey is either very well hidden or gone. After all, it's been almost three weeks. He could be back in Egypt by now."  
  
"Without us knowing?" Spencer Milton was skeptical. "We've got informants in every airfield and dock on the island. There's no way he's gotten away without our knowing it. He's here. We just have to find the rat hole he's hiding in."  
  
Milton's butler knocked quietly at the library door. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but there's a gentleman to see you. A Mr. Sidney Black."  
  
Milton scowled. Black was the last person he wanted to see right now. He waved his butler away after indicating he should show the man in.  
  
"Spencer. Victor. A fine evening, is it not?" Black asked pleasantly after the butler had left.  
  
"Yeah. Bloody wonderful," Spencer Milton toasted his guest with a negligent wave of his whiskey glass.  
  
"You are out of sorts this evening." Sidney Black observed sarcastically, tapping a newspaper against his thigh. "Problems?"  
  
Victor Croft snorted. "You could say that," he muttered into his snifter.  
  
"Anything I can help with?" Black's icy tone gave them fair warning that he was tired of playing at twenty questions.  
  
"Ardeth Bey," Milton choked out, "has vanished off the face of the earth. You would think that a six-foot tall, tattooed Egyptian would stand out in a crowd of Englishman, now wouldn't you? "  
  
Black sighed and sat down. "You would think so. My contacts have turned up nothing as well. I don't know, gentlemen, perhaps we should just sit back and think about this a bit more. Where does a man like him go when he's visiting? Who does he see? What does he see? We need to give this more thought."  
  
He tossed the newspaper onto the side table and reached for the glass Victor Croft held out to him.  
  
"My God!"  
  
Spencer Milton's shout and the accompanying sound of shattering glass as his drink fell from his fingers made the other two men jump.  
  
"Are you insane, man?" Croft wanted to know as he brushed sloshed brandy from his coat sleeve.  
  
"It's her!" Milton yelled, pointing furiously at the newspaper. "It's that woman who was with Bey at the docks."  
  
The three of them stared at the headline on the front page of the London Times.  
  
**_Museum to Host Gala Reception Honoring New Ancient Egyptian Exhibit_**  
  
Below it was a photograph of a woman standing beside a sarcophagus. Croft picked up the paper and began to read the accompanying article aloud.  
  
**_The British Museum is pleased to host an elegant reception tomorrow evening to unveil its new Wonders of Ancient Egypt Exhibit. Mrs. Evelyn O'Connell, Curator of the British Museum renowned Bembridge Scholar, will be the hostess for the evening's festivities, which include an exclusive private showing of newly acquired Egyptian artifacts. "As you know," she told the Times in an interview, "our exhibit was all but ruined by fire a year ago. We have refurbished as many of the artifacts as we could, and, thanks to connections I have in Egypt, we're unveiling some wonderful new artifacts as well. Including some ancient texts believed to belong to some of the mythical tribes of the ancient world."  
  
The reception begins at seven o'clock and donations received will benefit the Fire Restoration Project. "We've still a long way to go, toward undoing all the damage from the fire but we've made a very nice start," the lovely Mrs. O'Connell told this reporter. The museum is counting on London Society to come out in force to support their efforts.  
_**  
"Are you certain, Milton? Are you certain that's the woman you saw?" Black was staring at the photograph.  
  
"Yes! Absolutely. I've no doubt that is the woman I saw with Bey."  
  
Sidney Black stroked his small mustache. "Gentlemen, I suggest you have your valets press your tuxedos. We are going to a gala."  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
"Now, Jonathan, you're certain you'll be all right with the children tonight?"  
  
Jonathan Carnahan laughed at his sister's uneasy tone. "Of course, old mum. We'll be just fine, won't we kids?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, mum. We're great. Right, Ziz?"  
  
"Yes, Aunt Evy. Uncle Jon has said that we are going to have much fun tonight." Azizah's innocent tone was a perfect second of Alex's.  
  
"You are planning on untying him eventually, aren't you?" Evy wondered.  
  
The two children looked up from the knots they were busy tying around their uncle's ankles.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Of course." Alex assured her.  
  
"Uh, Jonathan? Can you explain why you're tied to a chair in the living room?" Rick appeared at the top of the stairs, straightening his tie.  
  
"We are playing, Uncle O'Connell!" Azizah told him happily as she wound another loop of rope about Jonathan's legs.  
  
"Playing what?" he wondered.  
  
"Are you sure you want to know?" Evy warned.  
  
Rick shook his head as he descended the stairs to stand beside his wife. "You're right. I don't wanna know. Forget I asked." He gave Evy a long look then whistled appreciatively. "You look gorgeous."  
  
"Thank you." Evy blushed prettily. She'd picked the gold satin evening dress because of the embroidery that wound through the fabric like snakes. The heavy material clung to her curves and the sleeveless tunic style reminded her of the gowns she'd seen in her visions. "I do hope everyone enjoys themselves this evening. Most of the society ladies attending aren't especially interested in ancient Egyptian artifacts."  
  
"Then why are they coming?' Rick asked.  
  
"Money, old chap," Jonathan answered. "These society matrons are absolute swimming in it."  
  
"And the Museum would like them to send a bit of it our way," Evy added. "Are Ardeth and Khay ready yet?"  
  
"Yes, we are. Well, I am anyway." Rick and Evy turned as Khayriyyah's voice carried down from the balcony.  
  
"Khay! You look lovely! I still can't believe Ardeth bought that dress for you! He has amazing taste, unlike some other men I can name." Evy turned a sideways glance toward her husband.  
  
"What?" Rick looked hurt. "I have good taste. I bought you that great sweater, remember?"  
  
Evy cringed. "I remember." She turned to Khay. "It was orange with green dots all over it."  
  
"But it was warm!" Rick grinned. "Okay, I admit it. I am well aware that when it comes to women's clothes, I am not the best one to choose what's fashionable. Well, outer clothes at least. There was that nightgown I got you for Christmas last year..." He stopped when Evy's elbow connected with his midsection.  
  
"We'll not discuss that here," she chided.  
  
Khay laughed. "I consider myself lucky to have a husband with such excellent taste. Speaking of husbands, isn't he down here yet?" She looked around as if expecting to see Ardeth in the room.  
  
Rick and Evy both shook their heads. "He'll be along soon, I imagine," Rick volunteered. "It can't take that long to put on those robes."  
  
Jonathan chuckled.  
  
"What's so funny?" Evy asked suspiciously.  
  
"Nothing!" Jonathan's face was contrite. "Nothing at all."  
  
"You're not telling us something. I can tell." Evelyn O'Connell's eyes narrowed at her brother. "Spill it. Or I'll tell those two not to untie you 'til we get home."  
  
"It's nothing, honestly, just that - do you really think Ardeth would wear his desert robes to a society event?"  
  
"What else would he wear?" Rick wondered.  
  
"I believe the rule is quite clear as to what is appropriate for such events, is it not?"  
  
Everyone turned toward Ardeth's voice.  
  
"Bloody hell, Uncle Ardeth, look at you!"

And they did look. As a matter of fact, they stared. Evy was so taken aback by the sight before her that she forgot to correct her son's language. For Ardeth was not wearing his desert robes. He wore a tuxedo. A white shirt and black bow tie complemented the black pants that brushed against the tops of black leather shoes. Ardeth's black curls had been brushed until they caught the light and hung to his shoulders in stark contrast to the heavy white silk of his jacket. Onyx and gold cufflinks flashed at his wrists.  
  
Azizah finally broke the silence when she gave Jonathan a loud kiss on the cheek. "It looks wonderful, Uncle Jon! Oh, Babu! You are so handsome!"  
  
"I got to admit, brother, that looks a damn sight better on you than that dress would have."  
  
"Oh, my! Jonathan, you had something to do with this?" Evy asked, gawking at the sight of Ardeth in his evening clothes.  
  
"Well, not really. It was Ardeth's idea. I only gave him the name of my tailor."  
  
Ardeth's eyes had not left those of his wife. Her silence was disconcerting. "Are you not pleased, Khayriyyah?" He asked quietly, a worried frown creasing his handsome face. "Is this not appropriate?"  
  
Khay's hand went to her throat. "Goodness, no! I mean yes! I mean, oh, Ardeth! You look wonderful!"  
  
"Oh, yes," Evy assured him quickly. "Absolutely!"  
  
Rick looked from one awestruck female to the other. "Well at least you won't have to worry about the ladies enjoying the exhibit," he remarked dryly. "If they're anything like you two, they won't even notice it."  
  
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Sidney Black wasn't sure if the crowd of people at the Museum was a curse or a blessing. He supposed it depended on how you looked at it. A curse, because it made it harder to search for one person, namely Bey. A blessing because once they found him, it would be much easier to spirit him off.  
  
"Do you see him?" Victor Croft asked with a smile as he handed him a glass of champagne.  
  
"No." Black smiled back. They were making sure they fit the happy partygoer image that everyone else was adopting. "However, I did see the O'Connell woman over in the main gallery a moment ago and introduced myself. I told her I was deeply interested in the newly uncovered texts, being somewhat of an amateur scholar on the ancient desert tribes. She said a friend of hers was here whom I should meet who could give me all sorts of helpful information on the subject."  
  
"Do you suppose it's Bey?" Croft wondered. But Black didn't answer. His eyes were firmly fixed on the other side of the room. "Sidney?" Croft made to wave a hand in front of the thin man's face but it was caught in an iron grip.  
  
"Look over there." Black's voice was quiet, icy.  
  
Croft followed his gaze and found the object of Black's attention immediately. A tall man dressed in an immaculate white tuxedo was standing with his back to them. He looked no different from any number of men here tonight but for one thing - all the other men here had short hair. This man's hair fell to his shoulders in curling black waves. Suddenly, the man they watched straightened imperceptibly. Sidney Black could swear this man knew someone was watching him. Then the man turned and Croft and Black found themselves staring at the tattooed face of Ardeth Bey.  
  
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"O'Connell?" Ardeth walked through the dark exhibit hall toward the lighted office at the other end. One of the maids working the reception had told him that Mr. O'Connell wanted to see him in the office. Khayriyyah had asked if he wanted her to go with him, but he told her stay and enjoy the party. He would find out what Rick wanted and be right back.  
  
Ardeth moved forward cautiously. For some odd reason, the sixth sense that had always warned him of danger was making the back of his neck prickle. He tried to shake off the feeling. After all, what could happen to him here? This was the British Museum, there were dozens of people around, and no one knew he was going to be here. It was perfectly safe. He'd used this reasoning on Nadhir and the London Med-jai when they wanted to send bodyguards with him, he'd used this reasoning on Rick when he asked about Spencer Milton's desire for revenge, and he'd used it on himself every five minutes since the uneasy feeling started. He was on a holiday of sorts and he wasn't going to allow his misguided sense of danger spoil his evening so he deliberately ignored it.  
  
"O'Connell!" He called a bit louder, then chuckled to himself. For some reason he couldn't call his brother by anything other than his last name. Ten years of habit, he supposed, but it still made him laugh.  
  
"Someday," he thought, "I will surprise them all and call him 'Rick'. Either that or I will come up with another name for him. Perhaps 'Ahi'..." Ardeth's thoughts came to a violent and abrupt end when something caught him from behind and slammed him to the floor, knocking the breath out him and sending his senses reeling.  
  
"Trap!" His mind screamed as he fought to drag air into his burning lungs.  
  
Momentarily winded, he struggled feebly against his attackers. Somehow, Ardeth managed to pull free of the tuxedo coat, leaving his attackers with a fistful of material instead of his arms and made it to his feet. He threw punches at anyone he could reach but in his still dazed state he wasn't sure if his fists were connecting or not. A strong hand grabbed his hair from behind and pulled his head back. The Med-jai tried to shake off the grip but the man behind him was a giant, taller than himself and with the strength of an ox. Before Ardeth even had a chance to move a cloth covered his mouth and nose and a sickly sweet stench filled his nostrils. Ardeth tried not to breathe, tried to hold his breath but the cloth stayed firmly in place and the blackness at the edge of his vision began to grow.  
  
Arnie Cummins watched the struggling man his employer called Ardeth Bey grew weaker and weaker until he finally hung limp between the two ruffians that held him. The larger one, Blick, left the cloth on a moment longer just to be sure. Then they simply let go and Bey fell to the floor.  
  
"Are you sure he's out?" Cummins asked, knowing that, despite their immense strength and size, a six-year old could outsmart the thugs he'd brought along to do the heavy work.  
  
The smaller of the pair, Ollie Wentworth, lifted up a limp arm and let it go. It dropped back to the floor with a dull thud. Not satisfied, the one called Blick sent a hard kick into the unconscious man's ribcage.  
  
"E's out cowld," Blick said with a happy grin.  
  
Ollie laughed and kicked Bey himself for good measure. "Ere now," he observed with some concern after a moment. "'e looks like e's barely breathin'. 'Ow much ovat stuff'd you give 'im?"  
  
Blick scratched his head. "Dunno," he mused. "Arnie said 'e was a biggun so oi used an 'ole bottle."  
  
"Blick!" Cummins cried, quietly. "You may have killed him! Don't you know that too much chloroform can be deadly?"  
  
"Uh..." Blick thought about it for a moment. "No."  
  
"Why me?" Cummins muttered to himself.  
  
"Oi know! 'Cause the Boss said this 'ere Bey bloke was a real biggun an' real fiercelike an' 'e needed a couple a strong blokes ta deal wif 'im." Ollie was overjoyed at what he felt was the correct answer and he beamed.  
  
Cummins slapped his hand to his forehead and cursed. "Just bring him along!" He ordered. "I want to be out of here, now."  
  
None to carefully, Blick and Ollie grabbed Ardeth's arms and dragged him down the corridor. The only indication that anyone had been in the area at all was the white silk jacket that lay abandoned on the black tile floor.


	12. Chapter 12

Part Twelve – Gone!  
  
Something nagged at the back of Rick O'Connell's mind.  
  
He couldn't explain it, nor could he identify the source. He only knew that something, somewhere was not quite right.  
  
He turned a bit away from the people around him, as if looking at one of the paintings displayed on the wall, took a deep breath and concentrated inward, letting his heartbeat be the focal point of his meditation. It was a trick he'd learned among the Med-jai and, though he was still a long way from perfecting the self-induced trance, he found that the conversation around him fading to a dull hum.  
  
Once he found his center, he closed his eyes and let his other senses fly. While spoken words were now a mere whisper, other sounds became unnaturally clear. Crystal glasses clinked on silver trays, numerous heels clicked against stone and wood floors, fabric rustled on bodies. He could smell a dozen different perfumes and colognes. He could pick out the unique scent of his wife from where she stood beside him and the scent he'd come to recognize as Khay's across the room. His body took another deep breath, as if his subconscious knew the answer and was trying to convey it to his conscious mind. Scent.  
  
The inner alarm was even stronger now. Something about the way the room smelled was different. Something was here that wasn't before. His forehead furrowed as he concentrated. No, that wasn't it. He took another deep breath. It wasn't that there was something new. There was something missing.  
  
"Ardeth!" Rick's eyes flew open and the trance fell away.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" The elderly benefactor that had engaged Evy and him in conversation was giving him a queer look.  
  
Evy, on the other hand, was instantly alert. "What about Ardeth, Rick? Is something wrong?"  
  
"I have to find Ardeth. Excuse me." He turned to leave but Evy took hold of his arm. He looked down into her face to see that she was very concerned.  
  
"Rick, what is it? What's wrong?"  
  
He shook his head. "I don't know. Probably nothing. I just want to talk to Ardeth about something. I'll be right back."  
  
Evy wasn't convinced. "Something is wrong. Why won't you tell me?"  
  
Rick shook his head again. "I don't know. I just . . . it's a feeling, okay? I just have a funny feeling and I want to ask Ardeth if he can . . . if he feels a funny feeling, too."  
  
His wife looked only slightly mollified. "Alright. But let me know when you talk to him."  
  
O'Connell kissed her lightly and smiled. "I will."  
  
"I love you," Evy mouthed as he left her.  
  
"You, too," he mouthed back. He spent several minutes searching the room but couldn't find his brother. That in itself was odd because he and Ardeth were two of the tallest men there. He finally gave up looking for Ardeth and began looking for Khay.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Khay excused herself from the group that she had been chatting with and walked toward the open gallery doors. Several of the tall windows were open, letting in the mild air, and she breathed of it, deeply.  
  
Ever since Ardeth had been called away to meet Rick, she'd been uneasy. A vague sense of impending disaster threatened the outer edges of her psyche and the feeling was building with each minute her husband was gone. She closed her eyes and concentrated, much in the way Rick had done earlier. The sense of something being terribly wrong got stronger. She wondered if Ardeth felt it, too, and she reached her senses out to look for him. Her bond with her beloved was still new and she found that when she wasn't concentrating specifically on him, it was harder to feel him. Her father had assured her that this would pass in time, that eventually she would be able to feel him wherever he was. She wished that was so right now, because right now, she couldn't feel him.  
  
Khay frowned. There was nothing that gave any indication Ardeth was near. She deepened her trance and was about to try again when the sense of terrible danger overwhelmed her. So distinct was the feeling, she gasped out a cry and her hand went to her throat. In the back of her mind, she knew that she was not the one in danger. Ardeth was. And it was his emotions that she was feeling. She knew through her bond that her husband was fighting against incredible odds and that he was alone.  
  
Khay wanted to cry out to Rick, to anyone, to help him but she felt as if her mouth was being covered and she couldn't speak, could barely breathe, then the world slowly turned black. She did not know her knees were buckling beneath her, nor was she aware that Rick was sprinting to catch her. She only knew that Ardeth was gone.  
  
"Khay. Khay. Come on, sis, you gotta wake up for me."  
  
She heard her name as if from far away. Strong arms circled her waist and she realized that she was sitting down which was odd since she could have sworn she was standing not a moment ago. After a brief struggle with her eyelids, she managed to convince them to open and found herself staring into the face of Rick O'Connell. Rick knew from the way Khay's eyes widened when she saw him that his feeling of dread was not misplaced.  
  
"Where's Ardeth," he asked, his voice shaking slightly.  
  
"He's gone!" Khay cried. "He went off as soon as he got your message and now he's gone!"  
  
The look that crossed Rick's face said it as clearly as if he'd spoken.  
  
"You didn't send for him, did you," she stated as she slowly stood up, horror dawning in her eyes.  
  
Rick's eyes mirrored hers. "No. I didn't." He looked around the room, searching one last time for any signs of the Med-jai. "Look," he finally said. "Let's not panic." Yet, he added silently.  
  
"I'm not sure anything is even wrong. He might have just stepped out to use the john. But let's find him just the same. "I'll take the outer exhibit halls. You take the gallery. Okay?"  
  
Khay nodded and took a deep breath. They both knew something had happened, they just needed to make sure before they acted. It was very sensible idea and she found herself wondering at it. From what she'd heard and learned of Rick O'Connell in the past few weeks, sensible was not one his strong suits. She turned the thought aside and went searching for any sign of her husband. Carefully, she skirted the gallery and climbed the stairs to the balcony. It didn't take her long to see that Ardeth was nowhere in sight. Khay descended the stairs, her sights set on finding Rick when she heard a loud cry cut through the sounds of the gathered crowd.  
  
Rick! She ran, along with most of the other people, toward the sound of the voice. When the crowd stopped, she kept going, pushing her way forward through the mass of people. When she finally broke through the front of the crowd, she saw her brother-in-law standing dead still in the center of the exhibit hall, his face a mask of tormented anguish, Ardeth's white jacket clutched in his hands.  
  
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There were voices. At least he thought they were voices. It was hard to tell through the deep fog that penetrated his mind. He felt as if his head had been wrapped in blankets. He wanted to open his mouth to ask where he was, open his eyes to see where he was, but his body would not cooperate. He was trapped in this place for now so he let his tired body rest and allowed blackness to reclaim him.  
  
"I think he's trying to come around."  
  
Black only nodded as he watched Bey's eyes move under his lids. "I don't think it will be soon," he observed as he saw Bey's body go slack again, losing the battle to regain consciousness. "That idiot gave him too much chloroform."  
  
"Well," Croft gave a loud yawn and stretched. "I'm going home. Shall I check back in tomorrow then?"  
  
Black shook his head. "No. I do not believe I'll be needing you again soon and it would be unwise for us to be seen together too much. No, you go home. I will let you know if I need anything. Besides," a sinister grin curled at the corners of his mouth, "I think I can handle our Mr. Bey myself."  
  
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Evelyn O'Connell watched as her husband paced. It had been eighteen hours since Ardeth had vanished and he had yet to sleep. Not that any of them had actually tried to sleep. Instead they had waited, tense and fearful, for any word from either Scotland Yard or the London Med-jai about what might have become of Ardeth. They both jumped as the front door banged open.  
  
"Nothing!" Nadhir Alaa al Din ranted as he surged through the door, several of his men in his wake. "Not a trace! Not a clue! It's as if he vanished into thin air! I knew I should have sent guards along with him. I should have insisted. I should have demanded that he obey me!"  
  
Despite his concern, Rick snorted loudly. "Demanded? Of Ardeth? Sorry, Nadhir, no one 'demands' anything of Ardeth. Not you, not me, not anyone."  
  
"Still, I should have tried to convince him. I should have made more of an effort to get him to listen to reason."  
  
"You and me both. I asked him more than once if he wanted someone there to watch his back and he said he had me. Me! What good did I do? I let him down, too. I let him . . . "  
  
"Enough!" Khay's raised voice held the command of a queen. Both men looked at her pale, determined face and backed down. "You are beating yourselves up for nothing. Your efforts can be put to better use."  
  
"Did you find him, grandfather?" No one noticed the girl creep down the stairs until she spoke.  
  
Nadhir knelt down and opened his arms, gathering the tiny child into his embrace. "Not yet, poppet, not yet. But we will. I promise you." He kissed Azizah's head and held her close. His eyes flashed fire as his gaze met Rick's.  
  
"The Med-jai will not rest until we have your father safely home." 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – The English Gentleman  
  
Ardeth balanced his weight carefully on his feet, trying not to put too much pressure on the wrists chained high over his head and trying to remember a time when he had been more stupid than he'd been the night of the gala. The night he'd refused a bodyguard. It was hard to think of one.  
  
"O'Connell is going to kill me," he thought as he relived the events that brought him to this less than pleasant position.  
  
He remembered struggling, and the sick sweet smell of the drug-soaked cloth. Then there had been nothing but light and darkness and voices for what seemed like a very long time. When he finally found enough energy to concentrate on the voices, he'd discovered that he'd been unconscious for eighteen hours. Long enough that his captors were getting worried or so he surmised by their conversation.  
  
"And long enough for O'Connell to start searching," Ardeth told himself as his mind slipped once more into darkness. After another long sleep, he'd opened his eyes. It was then that they came for him.  
  
Ardeth fought against them as best he could but the chloroform had taken its toll and he could only struggle weakly. The larger one, the one they called Blick, had simply knocked him upside the head and the resulting blow was enough to stun him senseless. When his head stopped reeling, he was suspended from the ceiling of what appeared to be a large basement with the smaller man, Ollie he'd been called, standing guard.  
  
Ardeth ignored the smaller man and let his eyes roam the space, taking inventory of possible escape routes and useful objects. Unfortunately, the place was practically bare. Only a few broken chairs and a large brick furnace were in sight. Stacks of firewood and kindling had been piled against one wall along with bundles of old newspaper. A coal bin held a supply of fuel for the furnace. Other than that, there was nothing of value or use to be found.

The room itself was made up of stone walls and high wooden beams. And it was very large. Ardeth closed his eyes and willed himself to think past the pounding headache that the drug and his treatment had induced. He could ignore the pain. What he needed now was information. He twisted in his chains, trying to get a better view of his prison.  
  
"You'll not get free a'those," gloated Ollie. "So ya can stop yer squirmin'".  
  
Ardeth said nothing but slowly turned his head until his full, unblinking gaze was resting firmly on Ollie's round face.  
  
"Got yer attention then, did 'oi?" Ollie laughed as the tall foreign man began to turn toward him. He took a moment to revel in the bruised and swollen face, then he met those staring dark eyes and his laugh faltered.  
  
Ollie Wentworth had never seen anything in his life that scared him as much as those cold, empty eyes. No, not empty. They were full, full of the promise of death and great torment. He could see the images of exactly how he would die pass through those deep depths and he felt a cold chill run down his spine.  
  
"'Ere now, wha... whad er you up to?" he stammered. "You stop that, now. You 'ear me?"  
  
"Stop what? Honestly, Mr. Wentworth, what could he possibly be doing to you?" A cold voice echoed along the stone and a shadow passed just outside Ardeth's line of sight.  
  
Ollie jumped at the sound. "Mr. Black! 'E's... well... 'e's starin' at me!" he blurted.  
  
The unseen man sighed loudly, his annoyance clear in his tone when he spoke. "Go upstairs and see Arnie. I have another job for you."  
  
Ollie nodded and backed away from their captive, afraid to turn his back to the chained man.  
  
Black smacked at him as he passed and cursed. "Get going! He's not going to hurt you. Now move!"  
  
The round, little man scampered out of Ardeth's sight and Ardeth heard him pounding up a set of wooden stairs somewhere off to his left, filing the information away with the other things he'd learned about his prison.  
  
"Good afternoon, Mr. Bey. I trust you rested well?"  
  
Ardeth said nothing; he simply stared at the skeletal man before him. While he appeared to be the very essence of an aging English gentleman, Ardeth saw beyond the veneer. Every inch of this distinguished looking man screamed of cold cruelty and refined evil.  
  
"This," he thought with wry humor, "should be interesting."  
  
The gentleman continued, seemingly unperturbed at Ardeth's silence. "I do apologize for your extended sleep but my employees lack a certain finesse in these matters. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sidney Black, your host of sorts, and I would very much like to ask you a few questions about the location of Hamunaptra." The thin man smiled cordially but Ardeth could see that the smile did not reach his eyes.  
  
"Then your efforts have been in vain as Hamunaptra does not exist." Ardeth's words were calm if a bit slurred.  
  
"Ah. Yes, well, you would say that, I suppose. Still, I have information that it does, in fact, exist and that you know where it is."  
  
"Do I?"  
  
Black absently smoothed a finger over his razor thin mustache. "Yes. You do. You see, Mr. Bey, I know all about the Med-jai. They are the keepers of the sacred sights of Egypt and protectors of the City of the Dead. A city that is rife with treasure. Treasure my organization wants very much to obtain."  
  
Ardeth's face betrayed nothing. "The Med-jai, like the fabled city and its' equally fabled treasure, are just that - fables."  
  
Black smiled condescendingly. "It is very noble of you, Mr. Bey, to guard your secrets but I know the truth. The Med-jai exist. The city and its treasure exist. And you, sir, are the key to them all. You are Med-jai and you will tell me where the city lies."  
  
"Again, your efforts are in vain. For even if I were to possess such information, why would I tell you?"  
  
"Because, Mr. Bey, I can be a very persuasive man when I have to be."  
  
It was Ardeth's turn to smile. "Well, then, Mr. Black, I suggest you begin, for we are in for a very long afternoon."  
  
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"I say! You're Spencer Milton, aren't you? Viscount Milton?"  
  
Milton looked up from his brandy and studied the smiling blond man standing next to his chair. "Do I know you?" he asked, wary but pleased at the delight the man seemed to feel in seeing him.  
  
"Not really, no. I mean we've not met in person but I've read so much about you and your family I feel I know you." The blond man beamed.  
  
"You've read of my family?" Milton asked, his ego inflating at the thought that someone found his family as important as he did.  
  
"Oh, yes! I mean, who wouldn't? What with all you've done for the University and the sheer amount of history your family has been involved with. It's really such a pleasure to finally meet you!"  
  
Milton smiled arrogantly. "Yes, well, my family has had a bit of a history. Very important people, the Milton's have been over the years."  
  
"Oh absolutely!" The blond man beamed even more. "I dare say, I'm a bit overcome and forgetting my manners. I'm Jonathan Carnahan. Professor Carnahan, actually. I teach Egyptology at Oxford in the very building named for your ancestors, Milton Hall. Would you mind terribly if I joined you?"  
  
"Please do," Milton gestured for Jonathan to sit across from him. "I'm always pleased to meet someone who appreciates the history my family represents. Would you care for a brandy?" He gestured for a serving man to bring another without waiting for Jonathan's reply.  
  
Jonathan let a star-struck smile light up his face. "Thank you. It's an honor, really. I've studied so much about your family. Wonderful things they've done for the University. Wonderful things. Why the Asbury medal alone should secure your family name forever in the annals of Oxford." He watched Milton's face carefully and was pleased when a black look crossed the man's face.  
  
Jonathan immediately adopted a contrite tone. "Oh, I'm so dreadfully sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up. I mean, it must have been terrible to see your family honor done in so by a heathen foreigner. I have no doubt, from reading the accounts of the tournament, that the man - Bey was his name? - cheated. Obviously. I mean there is no other way he could have won otherwise."  
  
"You are among the minority, sir." Milton's voice was harsh with rage. "The judges deemed the tournament a fair contest despite my and my family's numerous protests."  
  
"Well, clearly they were mislead. I think it's quite obvious from my research who the winner should have been. In fact, I've found some documentation that I believe may be related to the tournament, documentation I found hidden in one of the old workrooms."  
  
"What kind of documentation?" Milton asked.  
  
"Well, I think, and it's only a theory mind you, but I think I've found some notes made by one of the judges that indicate something fishy was going on. But I'm not sure which tournament they're from. I know there was more than one year in question but there are no dates. Only your name, and this Bey fellow's, and some remarks about illegal moves." Jonathan sighed. "I've been trying to find someone who was at the events to take a look at them for me but I can't find anyone who was at all three. And unless you were there and remember all of them, it would be hard to put the notes into context if you know what I mean." Jonathan watched with barely suppressed glee as Milton took the bait.  
  
"I suppose I could have a look at them for you," Milton suggested smoothly.  
  
He couldn't believe his luck! It seemed that, finally, some justice would prevail. He'd never lived down having been defeated not once but three times by a desert mongrel. To this day it was thrown up at him at odd moments and it had only fueled his hatred of Ardeth Bey. He'd always maintained that Ardeth had cheated, conveniently forgetting that in the last bout he was the one who'd charged Bey's unprotected back. If these notes were indeed made by one of the judges, perhaps he could reclaim some of the honor he'd lost all those years ago. "They do relate directly to me, after all."  
  
Carnahan's face lit up even more. "Oh, would you?" he gushed. "I'd be ever so grateful. You're sure it's not a bother?"  
  
Milton waved his hand magnanimously. "No bother at all. I'd be happy to help. Just bring the papers by and I'll do my best to help you."  
  
"Oh, dear." Jonathan let his face fall. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, when I found the papers, I turned them over to the library and they can't be removed. You'd have to come to the University to look at them." He sighed unhappily.  
  
"Well, then, you'll just have to take me to them, won't you?" Spencer Milton was already out of his chair.  
  
"You won't regret this, my lord!" Jonathan assured him as he took to his own feet.  
  
Milton smiled benevolently at the professor and indicated he should lead the way. Things were definitely looking up. He had Bey where he wanted him. And now he would have his family's honor restored. "You know, Professor Carnahan, this day can't get any better!"  
  
Jonathan laughed as he held open the door. "You are right about that, my lord. You are most certainly right about that."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 – Rick's Revenge  
  
Ardeth smiled. He couldn't help it. The situation was either too grim or too funny depending on the view. A situation, he reminded himself, that he alone was responsible for. Still, he wasn't totally lost. His captor had already made two very dire mistakes. Since Sidney Black was obviously a man who was used to being feared, a notion that Ardeth himself was well acquainted with, Black was expecting his menacing aura to intimidate his Med-jai prisoner. That was his first mistake. His second was leaving his captive alone for a few minutes to contemplate his fate.  
  
Ardeth didn't know what Black had in mind when he spoke of 'persuasion' but he had no doubt he would be unable to make any attempt at what he had mind later. Deliberately, he pushed that thought aside and concentrated. He had to take this moment of stillness to try and reach his brother. They had to know who had him and that he was, for the moment, alive. Ardeth closed his eyes and reached down, deep within himself, and when he had found his center, he sent the threads of his psyche spinning into the darkness. So intent was he on trying to reach Rick he was only peripherally aware of Black's return.

The Med-jai felt the tickle in the back of his mind that he associated with his brother's unique presence. He was closing in. He felt an answering tingle of awareness as the link formed.   
  
_--O'Connell--  
_  
It was only then that Ardeth's mind became alert to the warning tug on his other senses. He pulled back, intent on breaking the link.

_--Let me go!--_ Ardeth's mind screamed.  
  
Far away Rick received the warning but refused to release his hold. _--I'm not leaving you.--_  
  
"NO!"  
  
Ardeth wasn't aware that he'd yelled aloud until Black laughed. But by then it was too late. The whip was already streaking through the air.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rick had finally dozed off, much to Evy's relief.  
  
He'd insisted on going with Jonathan when he left to round up Lord Milton but Nadhir had taken a long look at his weary face and flatly refused. Of course, the American had resisted. No one could make him stay, he'd said. Only the argument that he'd be of much more use to Ardeth awake and alert rather than half dead on his feet made the difference. He'd been left behind with orders to sleep or he'd not be allowed to interrogate Milton when they returned. Since there was no way he'd miss that pleasure, he agreed to try and rest. Especially since they weren't sure how long the grab would take. Spencer Milton did appear at his club on a daily basis but not always at the same time.  
  
He hadn't actually meant to fall asleep. He'd sat down in the library chair intent only on closing he eyes for a short time but his weary body had other ideas and he was sound asleep in five minutes time. Rick was just starting to ease out of a deep slumber when his mind began to prickle. Fighting the urge to bolt awake, Rick forced his breathing to remain deep and even. Only one person could produce this reaction in his brain. Ardeth! 

_--I'm here--_, he thought, forming a picture of Ardeth in his mind's eye. _--I'm here--_  
  
_--O'Connell--_

The word carried Ardeth's voice into his head as clearly as if Ardeth were standing beside him. The connection was made.  
  
_--Ardeth! Where . . . --_ Before Rick could finish the thought, a feeling of dread screamed through the link.  
  
_--Let me go!--_  
  
The words were crystal clear. He felt Ardeth pulling away. Rick forced the connection, sending his mind racing after his brother's.

_--You're not leaving me!--_ Rick sent.  
  
_--NO!--_  
  
The word was shouted into his head and in that instant he felt it. The sharp slice of whip cut across his brother's back. Rick screamed and bolted to his feet.  
  
"ARDETH!"  
  
His agonized scream echoed through the house. Part of him was aware of voices and running feet but he would not heed them. His mind was totally focused on his brother.  
  
_--Leave me!--_ Ardeth's voice commanded as yet another wave of pain sliced across his spine.  
  
_--No! I'm staying!--_ Rick sent forcefully. He would not leave Ardeth to suffer alone.  
  
Another cut crossed the other two. Rick's own back burned as if on fire.  
  
_--Please . . . leave me--_ Ardeth's mind-voice was tight with pain now. _--Rick . . . --_  
  
More fire raced down Rick's spine. _--Not a chance, brother. Together. We do this together--_  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Rick's scream echoed through the house, rending the quiet like a rifle shot.  
  
"What's going on? What is it?" Evy was frantic. She burst into the library, Khay on her heels, their Med-jai guards only a split second behind them.  
  
"Rick!" Evy started towards her husband. "What's wrong?"  
  
Khay's hand on her arm stayed her. "You must not touch him. He's 'seeing'."  
  
Evy stared at her, then at Rick. He stood rigid in front of the chair, his whole body tense, his face a mask of pain and determination. His eyes were fixed wide and staring at something only he could see. "I'm not leaving you!" he yelled into the room.  
  
Evy's face paled. "Oh, God, what is it?"  
  
"No! Together, brother. We do this together."  
  
Evy could hear tears catching in Rick's throat.  
  
Khay's eyes closed and she reached out with her mind, trying to get some sense of what was going on. For an instant she, too, felt the painful fire of the lash then Ardeth sensed her and shut her out. She took a ragged breath and clutched at Evy's arm.  
  
Evy wrapped her arms around Khay's suddenly cold body. "Can you see what's going on?"  
  
"No. Ardeth shut me out as soon as he sensed my presence. I can now sense only echoes of what is happening."  
  
"Ardeth shut you out? Why?"  
  
Khay swallowed hard before she answered. "They are torturing him."  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Ardeth's hands hung limp in their chains. He could feel the blood dripping down his back and his head spun madly. Behind him he could hear Black panting and he knew beyond a doubt that the man was furious.  
  
Behind him Black stood staring at the havoc his lashing had wrought on the Med-jai's bare back. His chest heaved, not only from exertion but with a rage borne of having gotten nowhere. Bey had been right. He'd given the Med- jai all that he had but the man had held fast to his word. The flogging, while enjoyable, had been a waste of time. He'd told him nothing  
  
He threw the whip to one side and cursed under his breath in German. His fuehrer wanted the information this heathen held and returning to Berlin without it could mean his life. His mind worked for a few moments as he watched the blood drip onto the stone floor, then his thin lips curled upward. Apparently, he'd have to resort to other measures. He paced slowly around his captive and, grabbing a handful of the dark hair, pulled Ardeth's head up from where it slumped against his chest and gave an exaggerated sigh.  
  
"I don't now about you, Mr. Bey, but I grow tired of these games. Perhaps something else would change your mind." He smiled then, a macabre death's head smile that accentuated his sunken cheeks. "I understand you have a lovely little girl . . . "  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Upon leaving his club, Viscount Spencer Milton found himself the victim of a kidnapping. The surprised nobleman was grabbed from behind, a rough black hood was forced over his head and he was summarily wrestled into some kind of vehicle. He struggled frantically against his bonds while the car, at least it felt like a car, drove at what felt like breakneck speed through the city. Milton knew he was still in London because he could hear the city's noise over the roar of the vehicle's engine and, while he was alarmed, he wasn't unduly frightened. Surely someone would notice him when they reached their destination. It was broad daylight and even a nearsighted street urchin would see a bound man being dragged about and call for a constable. It wasn't until the city sounds faded into the quiet of the countryside that he began to feel the first inkling of fear.  
  
Why was he being kidnapped? His family certainly had enough money to ransom him but there were far wealthier families in the vicinity. Was it because of his connection to Black? It couldn't possibly be. No one knew of his treason but Croft and Black and neither was in a position to betray the other. They needed each other's protection too much at this point. It wasn't until the car began to decelerate that another reason for his abduction occurred to him. Ardeth Bey.  
  
Milton barely had time to let the idea surface when the car lurched to a stop and he was hauled out by the ropes around his hands. Whoever had him wasn't being gentle. Whoever had him had no consideration for the fact that he was of noble blood. As he was being dragged up stairs by hoodlums as if he was a common miscreant, the idea that he was being treated like one of the masses fired his indignation and he vowed he would say nothing once his captors were revealed. He would wield his haughtiness like a sword and show them the depth of his conviction! He would show them that he, Viscount Spencer Milton, was not to be terrified by common thugs and retain his dignity. And just as he finished his vow, he was dropped hard onto a chair and the hood snatched off his head.  
  
Milton barely had time to react to the sudden light before a hard blow to his face sent it splintering into dancing shards.  
  
"Where is he?" a man's voice spoke from somewhere in front of him.  
  
The voice was cold, hard; frissions of fear began to tickle up the nobleman's spine. He shook his ringing head trying to clear his vision. Presently a large dark shape took form before him; a shape that blocked the light and cast a menacing shadow over his body. Milton could feel the fury and hatred emanating in slow constant waves from whoever stood before him.  
  
"I asked you a question," the shadow spoke again, the words grinding from the man's throat like so many rough edged stones.  
  
Milton swallowed, remembering his promise. "Where is who? I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"Don't you?" the voice grew colder, if that was possible. Milton felt his hands began to quiver.  
  
The viscount's mind worked furiously. The deadly whisper was familiar. Milton's eyes squinted against the bright light and contrasting shadows that blocked the man's face. "Who are you? What do you want of me?"  
  
The shadow moved forward and leaned into Milton's face. He couldn't suppress a gasp of surprise as he recognized the tall American from the street corner skirmish.  
  
Rick smiled widely as he saw the recognition dawn in his captive's eyes. "I am your worst nightmare", he said softly, "and what I want - is my brother."  
  
"Your brother?" Milton laughed derisively. "How in God's name am I supposed to know. . ."  
  
Another punch landed on his jaw. "Don't fuck with me Milton," the American snarled. "I am not in the mood."  
  
"And I am in no mood for you!" Milton shouted back. Despite his vocal defiance, he could feel sweat begin to trickle down his neck.  
  
Rick put a strong hand around Milton's throat and began to apply pressure, increasing his grip with each word. "My brother is Ardeth Bey. And you are going to tell me where he is."  
  
"Ack. . . your brother. . . impossible," Milton managed to squeak out past the pressure on his windpipe. "It would figure though. An... American and a . . . filthy heathen. . ."  
  
The viscount didn't get a chance to finish the insult as the American's hands tightened even more. Milton's vision began to swim and he choked.  
  
Rick released the pressure slightly. "You will keep your insults behind your teeth or you will lose them. You know where Ardeth is and you are going to tell me. Or..." He let the word hang.  
  
Milton grimaced and swallowed past the tight grip. He summoned all his British arrogance and took a last, desperate chance. "Or what? You're going to kill me?"  
  
"No," the American said resignedly, loosening his grip and stepping back. "I'm not going to kill you."  
  
The Brit relaxed and blew a sigh out of his nearly crushed throat. He'd read the stupid Yank right, he wouldn't commit cold-blooded murder.  
  
"Of course you won't. You wouldn't dare," he squeaked, his voice cracking in terror on the last word. "I'm a citizen of the crown! The Viscount of Asbury! The laws of this country are clear about what becomes of murderers! Especially those who would murder nobility!"  
  
"The laws of this country are also clear about what happens to traitors."  
  
Milton blanched. "What. . . what do you mean?" he whispered hoarsely. "You insult my honor, sir, my loyalty to England."  
  
"You don't have any honor, Milton. You lost it when you attacked Ardeth's back all those years ago. And as for your loyalty, you sold it to Germany, remember? Oh, yeah. We know all about your little trips to Berlin. And your 'secret' meetings. You see, before we got a hold of you, we got a hold of your friend, Croft. He told us everything about the Nazi's infiltration plan. The only thing he didn't tell us is where Ardeth is. But you're gonna tell us that, aren't you?"  
  
"And if I don't?" Milton pulled together the last vestiges of his courage and spat the defiant words into Rick's face. "You already said you wouldn't kill me."  
  
"No, I won't kill you," Rick repeated and a menacing grin began to creep across his face. As if on an unspoken command, the London Med-jai stepped out of the shadows behind him. "These guys, on the other hand, will. And I can guarantee you won't like it and it won't be quick. So why don't you tell me what I want to know, and I'll make sure you don't suffer at their hands."  
  
The room was suddenly loud with the quiet sound of sharp steel being released from leather sheaths. Milton could see their edges blinking in the light and he looked from the grinning American to the black-garbed men and then back to the man claiming to be Ardeth's brother.  
  
"You wouldn't dare." The words were barely audible and the voice shook with fear.  
  
Rick leaned close to Milton's head. The viscount could feel the man's warm breath against his face, could feel the faintest brush of lips against his ear. The words didn't matter so much as the menace they held.  
  
"Try me."  
  
Then Spencer Milton, Viscount Asbury, forgot his vow and told the Med-jai everything they wanted to hear. And when he was done, Rick lived up to his promise. He didn't turn Milton over to the warriors who wanted his blood. Instead he drew his own dagger from the sheath at his ankle. He let the light cascade down the length of it while he tested its edge.  
  
"You. . . you said you wouldn't kill me!" Milton babbled, his eyes wide and terror-filled yet unable to look away from the shiny object.  
  
The American Med-jai looked down at the blade in his hand and felt again, for a fleeting moment, the slice of the whip against his brother's back. His eyes met those of his captive and he smiled a lopsided grin.  
  
"I lied."  
  
Afterwards, O'Connell soothed any guilt he may have felt over the deed by assuring himself that Milton never even felt the blade that pierced his heart.  
  
Probably.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 – The Siege  
  
The fashionable London town home had all the trappings of 19th century style so in demand by the 20th century wealthy. The high privacy fence of layered stone and scrolled ironwork and the old brick house with tall mullioned windows and climbing ivy were separated by deep expanses of fastidiously kept lawn and gardens. Large, full leaved trees hid the stone lines of the concealing wall and smaller flowering trees lined the drive. Immaculately groomed hedges hugged the house. It was, even by fussy London standards, a very nice piece of property.  
  
After dark, with the grounds cast in faint relief by dim moonlight, the greenery cast seductive shadows on the night-black grass. Anyone looking out of the house might get the fanciful notion that cloaked shadows moved about the yard, covertly moving from one tree to another, inching ever closer the house itself. A mousy soul might shudder and move into the inner rooms to cower in a large closet but any reasonable person would simply wonder at the magic of the night and return to his brandy and warm fireside.  
  
Sidney Black did just that, and though he didn't spend too much time wondering about the moonlit shadows, he did think, as he settled into his plush leather lounger, that perhaps it was time to move out of this house. He was getting that familiar feeling he always got when he stayed longer than a few months in one place that someone might find him out, that someone might be closing in on him. And it would do him nor his superiors any good if British Intelligence found a Nazi spy in their midst at this delicate point in the Reich's global pursuits. Yes, it was time to move, he thought with a sigh and long appreciative sip of his brandy. He would simply tell anyone who needed to know about his change of rooms that he was simply one man in too large a house. Yes, an apartment in the city would do nicely.  
  
First, however, he needed to dispose of the clutter in the cellar. For while Ardeth Bey was merely human refuse in his mind, he was delicate refuse that required skillful disposal. Perhaps he should have asked for advice in the coded telegram to Germany. Black laughed at that and shook his head. "No", he said aloud to the empty room, "I'll figure out something special on my own for our Mr. Bey. Something worthy of his contribution to our cause."  
  
Black laughed again, a long cold laugh that came straight from the depths of his twisted soul. He had broken Bey. When he'd threatened his daughter, the man had caved immediately. Well, not immediately. It had taken several long, enjoyable minutes of demonstration to convince the heathen that cooperation was best. But in all fairness, what father could resist once he'd been personally subjected to the many ways hot pokers could be used on a child's flesh. Black wondered for a moment if he, too, may have spilled his secrets had their positions been reversed. He snorted at the thought. Not likely. He was made of stronger stuff than the supposed warrior shackled in his basement. After all, it had only taken five lengthy turns of the white-hot poker to make the man talk. He sighed with disappointment. Five turns. He was hoping for more. He did so enjoy convincing people to see his side of things. Still, it had been fun watching his hired thugs beat the heathen senseless afterwards. He had so few real pleasures, it was nice to be able to indulge them once in a while.  
  
Black heaved another long sigh. His brandy was gone. And, as he'd vowed to cut down to one brandy a night, he was honor bound to live up to his word. The spy pushed himself up from the deep chair and put his glass on the sideboard. Tomorrow was another day. He'd surely think of a fitting way to dispose of the heathen by luncheon at the latest. Then he could look forward to carrying out the deed the rest of the day.  
  
Ah, but life was good! It was just such a damn shame he had to move, he thought, as he looked one more time over the darkened lawn. He really liked this house. Maybe after the Reich had won their place he' d return here. It certainly was the kind of place a man could spend the rest of his life. Happy with all he'd accomplished today and the thought that he would return here after all, Black saluted the view and left the room, turning the light out as he exited. Only the unblinking eyes of the windows stayed to watch the moonlight play on the grass and the shadows move closer to the house.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
The big man known only as Blick stood next to the bleeding, unconscious foreigner, a lopsided smile on his deceptively cheerful face. Every once in a while he'd poke at him, hard, sending the man swaying in his chains. This made Blick smile. Since he was 13 years old, the only thing that made him happy was hurting other people. This pursuit, along with his hulking size and cherubic face made him popular with the riff raff that haunted London's lower class. And Blick liked being popular.  
  
When he was young, he'd been picked on for his clumsy feet and big hands. He only wanted to be friends with the other boys but they'd push him and make fun of him. They delighted in telling him he was stupid and dumb and would never be their friend because he was a big idiot and they didn't like big idiots. One day, in spite of his mother's constant warnings not to lose his temper, he did. And he hurt the boys who teased him. He hurt them bad. His mother was afraid the police would put him in jail so Blick ran away. He ran away from the middle class neighborhood he'd been raised in and found his way to the infamous London stews, home of cutthroats and thieves for time immemorial.  
  
There he'd found real friends; friends who liked his large size, friends who'd buy him a drink and make him laugh. That's where he'd met Ollie Wentworth and Arnie Cummins. The two men had taken him in and taught him 'the trade'. Hired muscle, they were. Handy henchmen. Ollie and Arnie were his family. They never made fun of him because he wasn't smart.  
  
"Hey, wake up you," Blick cajoled as he poked at the foreign man again. "Oi want ya ta wake up an' play wif' me." The big man laughed at himself. "Play wif me. Ha ha. 'at was funny".  
  
Ollie always said he was a good one with a joke and if Ollie said it, it was true. But no amount of poking would wake the man. Blick gave him a good look. The strange man was a mess. His back was a crisscrossed mass of bloody gashes, his armpits and lower belly were bright red with blistering burns. Burns also showed through what was left of his pants. Blick smiled at the one high on the inside of the man's thigh.  
  
"Aw, Black musta had fun wif you," he mourned happily. The stranger's hands were wrapped around the chains that held him, clutched there, no doubt, from a moment of intense pain. "Oi wish I coulda bin 'ere."  
  
Blick gave a deep sigh of regret and thought about the sandwiches in the upstairs pantry. He knew he was supposed to stay and keep watch over their captive but he odd, painted man was out cold and he was hungry. He turned toward the stairs, his back to the Med-jai king. It was the last mistake Blick would ever make.  
  
The hands that gripped the shackles tightened and the broken body surged upward. With a speed that bordered on inhuman, Ardeth moved.  
  
"'ere now ... ack... ah," was all Blick could manage before his throat was completely gripped within the iron circle of Ardeth's legs. The big man clawed at his attacker. His fingers pulled at whatever he could reach – knees, thighs – but despite his ordeal Ardeth was too strong. Years of riding and running across desert sands had strengthened the muscles in his limbs to a fine-tempered steel.  
  
Ardeth's hands tightened on the iron manacles as Blick struggled. Ignoring the raking fingers that seared across the agonizing burn on his upper thigh, he willed more of his waning strength into his legs, pressing even harder on the sides of the giant's neck. He could tell by the man's purpling face that the circulation was dwindling. He only had to hold out another minute or so and he would be free. Finally, Blick's struggles subsided into weak jerking motions. After a final push of force against the arteries, Blick went limp. Ardeth forced himself to hold on another full minute before allowing the hulking body to drop at his feet.  
  
His legs trembled with exhaustion as he balanced on the big man's chest, gaining the precious inches he needed to swing his bonds over the end of the wooden beam that held the iron links fast. The bottoms of his feet, burned raw by Black's 'persuasion', protested at the pressure put upon them. Ardeth ignored that, too, concentrating only on getting the loop of chain over the wood. Finally, the iron chain swung free and Ardeth tumbled to the stone floor.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Rick pressed himself against the side of the house and waited for Nadhir's signal. He could feel the stones pressing into his back and thought about Ardeth. "Where are you, Ardeth?" he breathed into the dark, his voice no louder than the leaves that rustled over his head.  
  
Sometime during Ardeth's torture, Rick had lost his connection with his brother. Since then, he'd been unable to reengage the link that had connected them. He wasn't sure if Ardeth had lost consciousness or he hadn't been strong enough to hold the link. Either way, it was damn troubling. He refused to consider any other possible reasons for the break. Besides, his brother was alive. He'd know it if he weren't. The barest shadow of a hand appeared on the moonlit patch of ground by Rick's feet. It was time to go. He moved silently through the darkened archway and eased open the butler's door. The servants' quarters were quiet. He knew from their surveillance that none of the staff had stayed on overnight.  
  
Rick moved farther down the hall. His dark clothing made him invisible to everything but the faint stripes of moonlight that filtered through the high windows and crisscrossed the floor. To his left, several shadows removed themselves from a corner and surged forward. Rick hesitated only long enough to nod at Ardeth's father-in-law.  
  
Suddenly, loud voices echoed down the corridor. The Med-jai froze. The only room left in front of them was the kitchen. The voices must belong to Black's henchmen. Rick looked at Nadhir. The Med-jai held up two fingers. Rick nodded. It sounded like only two men to him, too. As one, the warriors moved toward the sound.  
  
"Well," Ollie Wentworth proclaimed through a mouth full of roast beef and bread, "oi 'ope 'e does it soon. Oi don' wanna be around when 'is friends find out we 'ave him."  
  
Arnie Cummins snorted and swallowed his own bite of food. "How are they going to find out. Nobody knows he's here excepting you and me and Blick. And we ain't told anybody, that's for certain. Besides, if Black kills him too soon Blick'll be upset. You know how he likes to have fun."  
  
"Yeah, fun," Ollie laughed. "Oi'm just glad 'e's on our side, if'n you get my meaning."  
  
"Oh, I do. It ain't my idea of fun neither."  
  
"Oh come on, fellas. Don't you want to know how the other side feels?"  
  
The two thugs dropped their sandwiches and turned abruptly toward the voice. An unknown man stood in the kitchen doorway, lounging casually against the doorjamb.  
  
"'ere now, oo're you?" Ollie demanded, his hand reaching for the pistol at his elbow.  
  
"Ah-ah!" the stranger warned, tapping the loaded holster under his arm. "I'm pretty sure I'm the faster draw."  
  
Cummins snorted again. "Oh, yeah?" his hand dove under the table. "Wanna bet?"  
  
Rick moved so fast Cummins and Wentworth could only blink. Before either man could even get their fingers on their weapons, the American's pistol was staring them in the eyes.  
  
"I'll take that bet," he said with certainty. "Now, let me tell you what I've won. You two are going to tell me where you are keeping Ardeth Bey and I will tell my friends to spare you rotten lives. Whadya think?"  
  
"Friends? You're all alone!" Cummins laughed at the ridiculous statement. The laugh died on his lips as several black-robed demons melted into the room. "Hey! Who're they?"  
  
Rick casually turned to look. "Oh, these guys? Friends of mine. Friends of Ardeth Bey, too. We want to know where he is."  
  
Ollie folded his arms over his chest. "Suppose we don' know 'oo that is. Suppose we don' 'ave any idea what you're talkin' about."  
  
The tall American's lounging posture changed with incredible speed. He stood upright, the barrel of his drawn gun pointing at a spot on Ollie's forehead, another gun, appearing out of nowhere, was aimed at Cummins. "Suppose I shoot you through the head."  
  
Ollie gulped audibly.  
  
"Now," Rick said with cold calmness as the black wall of Med-jai closed in around them, "where is Ardeth Bey?"  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
As silent as the night itself, another of the Med-jai force moved through the halls of the mansion house. They stalked slowly toward the large master suite, knowing their quarry lay within. Naked scimitars in hand, they burst through the bedroom door, ready to kill the man who had imprisoned their king. It took them only a moment to realize that their well-laid plan would need to be rethought. The room was empty.  
  
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Ardeth pushed his aching body into an upright slump. The bulky corpse behind him served as a backrest as he examined the manacles that had held his hands in check for almost two days. The skin around the edges of the irons was raw and bruised. He sighed. Removing them would be painful. On the other hand, what was a little more compared to what he'd already endured. He was alive, there were no life threatening injuries done to him. Getting his shackles off would be child's play. At least, that what he told himself.  
  
Bringing his breathing under tight control, Ardeth centered himself and focused on his right thumb. As best he could with numb fingers, he grasped it with his left fist. Slowly, he rotated the digit, ignoring the prickles of sensation that radiated upward through his wrist. He was thankful that he had little feeling left in his hands; it made this a lot easier. Finally, the thumb gave way with a pop and flopped free of the constraining joint. Ardeth's clumsy fingers then worked at the round iron manacle, gently moving it up and over his hand. It took him several long moments to reset the thumb into its' socket. When hit popped back into place, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and decentered his mind. It was then that he realized he wasn't alone. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 – Search and Rescue**

"A clever move, Mr. Bey, very clever. I would never have expected such an effort to succeed, especially after having spent so long ... hanging around, if you'll pardon the pun."

Sidney Black's face shone like a demonic mask in the dying light of the fire pit. The glow from the embers made his eyes gleam red and hollowed out his already sunken cheekbones until he looked more like a skeleton than a man of flesh and blood. The glow also cast an eerie light on the silver pistol he held at the ready in his hand.

One of the embers leapt to life, sending a small flame into the air. It danced for a moment, illuminating a single shifting shadow along the stone wall, then died into a dull red glow. A tingle frizzled along Ardeth's spine as he stared into the darkness, a sensation he pushed aside as he focused his attention once again on his tormentor.

"I'm a bit disappointed. I was going to plan something very special for your demise. Something Blick there would have enjoyed. But you've managed to kill him, I see. And since my plans to remain here for the night have seen an untimely interruption, I must, unfortunately, simply shoot you. Not a fitting completion to our acquaintance for either of us, I dare say."

Ardeth gazed into the darkness for a moment, then looked up at the man who had tormented him. "I gather my warriors have found your hiding place." Although he spoke out loud, his parched throat made the words seem more of a whisper than not.

"Yes. I assume they have come to the rescue, all hoping they will find you alive. I'm afraid they will find themselves quite mistaken. You see, there is only one way out of this cellar now. I've locked the other doors."

As if on cue, the men could hear muffled voices at the top of the stairs and faint sounds of pry bars being applied to the thick, wooden door.

The Med-jai ignored it. "I did not think it would take them long. You chose your companions poorly."

Black smiled, wryly. "Yes, I suppose I did. I really wasn't certain Croft and Milton would hold up and I assume by my unexpected guests that they haven't. Still in all, it was a fruitful relationship while it lasted. I garnered a great deal of valuable intelligence information for my organization concerning England's fortifications during my stay here. And there is the added bonus of having run into you. Thanks to our little conversation, a contingent of operatives is now on the way to Hamunaptra. I expect my reward will be something to remember."

To his great shock, the captive man slumped before him began to laugh. A rough, hoarse laugh, but a sound of genuine mirth nonetheless.

"Something amuses you?" Black asked, his own smile still playing at the edges of his emaciated lips.

Ardeth nodded, then took a breath and composed himself. "You are the one mistaken, Mr. Black."

"Oh, really? In what way?"

"Your operatives are not on the way to Hamunaptra."

Black shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Now, now, Mr. Bey. Now is not the time to play that little card. You cannot buy time that way. Yes, I'm sure they will get the door open but not soon enough to save you, even if you manage to get me to listen to your feeble attempt to save yourself."

"What makes you think I would tell you the true location of Hamunaptra?"

Black shook his head knowingly. "Because, Mr. Bey, all men have their price. Yours was your child. You are weak as all men of your type are weak. Oh, yes, you desert rats all consider yourself great warriors but when it comes down to it, you are nothing more than heathens who will vanish like blood into the sand when the army of the New Republic sweeps over you; an army that will be fueled by the riches you have so fruitlessly guarded."

Ardeth lips curled into an icy smile of their own. "I would not betray the location of Hamunaptra to you, Mr. Black, for any price, even the life of my child. Unlike your companions, I honor my oaths. But you are right. It matters not. You will be dead before your leader finds out about your misinformation. "

The banging on the door grew louder. It sounded as if someone had found an axe.

The traitor chuckled. "Yes, well, as fascinating as all this is, I really must go. I need to return to Germany as soon as possible." Black raised his gun. "As they say in the **new** English language - Auf Wiedersehen, Mr. Bey."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I want this door open and I want it open now, understand?" Rick tightened his grasp on Ollie Wentworth's throat and shook him much like one would a small animal.

"We keep tellin' you, we don't have the ruddy key!" Cummins yelled over Ollie's frantic gasping breaths and the Med-jai's attempts to pry open the door. "You're going to kill him, you bastard. Let him go." He struggled against the iron grips of the masked warriors who held him firm.

Realizing that Wentworth wasn't going to say anything worthwhile, Rick dropped the smaller man and turned on Cummins. He paid no attention to the two warriors who worked at the door near his elbow. "You have until the count of five to tell me how to get in. One."

"It's locked from the inside! I told you that already."

"Two."

"Black always said that's what he'd do if it came down to it."

"Three."

"He'd lock himself inside and then get out a secret way only he knew of."

"Four."

Cummins was speaking so fast he was barely understandable. "We was to meet him down on Whey Street Docks if that was ever to happen! I told you! I told you!"

"And that means what?" Rick asked menacingly.

"I told you so you wouldn't kill us!" he shouted.

"When did we make that arrangement?"

"O'Connell." Nadhir's quiet voice cut through the tension and caught Rick's attention. "Perhaps they are telling the truth. Even so, we must find another way to get the door open. I fear we are losing time if indeed this Black is inside. The king needs our help, not further delays."

"King? Whot the bloody 'ell are you goin' on about?" Ollie gasped, still trying to force air past his bruised throat. "There ain't no ruddy king down there."

"Yeah," offered Cummins, grasping at the notion that perhaps a misunderstanding had occurred. "You've made a mistake then. There's just Black and that strange-faced fella."

"That 'strange-faced fella', as you so put it," said Nadhir calmly as he pulled down the fabric masking his face, "is the king of our tribe. You are the ones who have made a mistake, gentlemen, two of them, to be precise. You made one when you chose to associate with Sidney Black, and you made one when you kidnapped Ardeth Bey. And while the one may have had no bearing on your futures, the other will rob you of them."

And while Arnie Cummins and Ollie Wentworth were digesting his statement, he issued a quick command in Arabic and the two men were led out of the service hallway and into the bowels of the house.

"May I suggest," Nadhir offering Rick an axe as the screaming men were led away, "an alternative means of entry."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The shot rang loud in the stone cellar, the terrible echo bouncing off the walls. Sidney Black cried out in pain and alarm as a bullet tore through his hand. He turned quickly to his right, his eyes wide with astonishment as a dark shadow disengaged itself from the blackness nearby.

"Perhaps my warriors' hopes are not as bleak as all that," Bey rasped dryly.

Black ignored him and stared at the intruder. "How in the hell did you get down here?" he wondered, his voice betraying his shock.

"It would seem that you are not as well fortified as you had imagined," Ardeth replied. "Did you honestly think that hunters trained to track bandits through the catacombs of pyramids could be vanquished by an English manor house?"

The nazi spy continued to hunch over his wounded hand. "Perhaps not an English manor house," he murmured painfully, "but most definitely by an English man!"

With a speed that one would not have expected from his appearance, Sidney Black whirled away from the two warriors and seized one of the still-hot pokers from the dying fire. The others fell to the floor with a loud clang or landed on the mound of kindling. Gunshots rang out as the hooded Med-jai attempted to hit the running man. Using the same shadows that had hidden the intruding rescuer, Black made his way around the fire pit. When he heard what he'd been waiting for, the click of an empty bullet chamber, he raised the poker and lunged at Ardeth Bey.

The Med-jai warrior had started firing the second Black dashed behind the furnace. With grim determination, he fired shot after shot at the dancing shadow of the English traitor. When the chamber clicked empty, he unsheathed the wicked scimitar at his side, knowing that Black held the poker in his hands. Only the slightest glow illuminated the thin shadow that stalked his king, but it was enough. When Black emerged from behind the furnace, the warrior was ready.

The iron poker hit the steel blade with a great crash. Sparks flew as the two opponents parried above Ardeth's head. Ignoring the pain in his body, Ardeth forced himself to roll sideways as soon as he was able, giving his champion more room. None of them noticed the smoldering kindling nor the tiny flames that began to form in the bone-dry wood.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"How ... thick ... can this ... door be?" Rick wondered aloud as he hammered at the door with the heavy axe.

"Ah, but English manors are well built, my friend," Nadhir answered him, taking a turn to swing at the door with his own cleaver. "They are made ... to be ... invincible." His last word rose with triumph as a small chink finally broke away, leaving a small sliver of the cellar's inky darkness exposed.

Rick leaned over and took a breath, preparing to call to his brother. He stopped short and backed up a step, raising alarmed eyes to Ardeth's father-in-law. In unison they attacked the wooden portal for neither of them needed words to tell them what to do; the smoke rising through the crack said it all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The fight was a furious one. Neither Black nor his opponent gave ground as they parried and thrust at each other, each hoping to break the other's grasp on his weapon. Ardeth lay gasping for air on the cold floor. Rolling away from the lunging feet as he needed to had drained his strength and left him desperately trying to pull air through to his lungs past broken and bruised ribs and pulled abdominal muscles. It was only when he managed to pull in a deep breath that he promptly coughed out that he noticed the smoke creeping through the air. He took a brief second to curse silently then called a warning in Arabic.

"Med-jai, fire! This must be finished!"

Black didn't know what Bey had called out but the choking cough as he finished speaking gave him an indication. He, too, was beginning to notice the thickening air.

"Well, my brave fellow," he gasped out as he continued to fight against the warrior who defied him, not caring if the man could understand him or not, "it seems ... we have reached ... an impasse, one in which ... we all die. And I don't know about you ... but I am not ready for death!"

With a burst of unexpected strength, Black lunged at the Med-jai, abandoning any attempts at finesse and simply hammering away at the scimitar with the poker, driving the warrior backward. When he stumbled over the spilled kindling, Black aimed a heavy blow to his midsection and the Med-jai went down in a heap, sword dropping to the floor as he fumbled to keep his balance. Black laughed wildly at his victory and reached for the hilt with one hand while pulling up the gasping warrior with other.

"Now, Bey, you get to watch your rescuer die before you." He pulled the headscarf off the warrior's head and almost dropped the weapon in his hand. "A woman! You people really are heathens, aren't you? Sending your women do your men's work." Black cruelly grabbed a handful of the woman's hair and pulled her upright, poising the razor sharp scimitar at her throat. He allowed himself a brief second to take in her exotic beauty then turned to Ardeth, a gloating smile on his lips. Despite the injuries and his obvious inability to do him harm, Black felt a shiver of dread creep down his spine. Bey's eyes were black with rage and in their depths Black could swear he saw his death.

"You will release her."

The Nazi shook off the fear that threatened at the edges of his emotions and grinned another death's head grin. "Why? Is she someone special to you? Do your warriors service you? Perhaps this one is especially good, eh, Bey?"

"I said, you will release her."

The smoking kindling had finally found its flash point. The pile of wood burst into flame, sending yellow light and heat into the smoky cellar.

Black glanced at it and spoke over the every growing sound of crackling wood. "No. Your Med-jai whore will die. Then you will die."

The warrior in his grip spoke. "I am not his whore," she ground out through clenched teeth.

Sidney Black threw his head back and laughed. It was the last mistake he would ever make. "What are you then?" he asked snidely.

He never saw the blade that appeared from her sleeve; never knew she had it until he felt it slide into his belly.

"I am," the warrior said coldly as she easily twisted out of his weakening grasp and yanked the knife upward into his chest, "his queen."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 –The Mouth of Hell**

Khay's eyes never left the Nazi's face. She saw the firelight dance in his dying eyes, and when she was satisfied the life was truly fleeing his body, she pulled the blade from Black's chest with a twist. Her face was a vivid mask of fury and hatred as she watched him fall to his knees.

"Had you proven worthy, I would have ended your life with honor," she informed him.

"Now you die as a dog, bleeding to death by my hand. It is acceptable, but far less than you deserve."

With his fading sight, Black could see in her eyes the death that she wanted him to have -- the prolonged agony, the slow draining of his life – and in his coward's heart he was glad for the gaping wound in his chest. He continued to stare at her as he gasped shallowly for air. His eyes only leaving her face when he slumped sideways, unable to keep upright any longer.

Safe in the knowledge that the Nazi spy would no longer be a threat, she wiped her knife and rushed to her husband's side.

"We need to get out of here!" she said over the crackling flames, pulling at Ardeth's arms. "The fire is spreading quickly."

Ardeth pushed himself up onto his elbows only to fall back upon the stone floor.

"Ardeth! You must get up!" Khay pulled on his arms again, this time with more force.

Ardeth groaned in pain as her hands closed around the burned and bruised skin. "I cannot, I have not the strength," he whispered hoarsely. He looked into her midnight eyes. "Khayriyyah, you must go!"

"I will not leave you!" she yelled. "You will get up!" She moved behind him and slid her hands under his armpits. "You will not die here. I will not let you!" she screamed as she heaved him up with all her strength. She got him to his knees where he swayed with dizziness. Khay steadied him, then put her shoulder under his arm.

"Stand!" she commanded as she tried to lift his body. "Ardeth Bey, you will STAND!"

But Ardeth did not move.

Khay knelt before her husband and took his face in her hands. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes. Still, she refused to be moved by the fact that his body would not obey him.

"You will get up," she told him forcefully through clenched teeth. "You will not leave me like this. You will not abandon your daughter. You will not abandon your people. You will get on your feet and you will move. Do I make myself clear?"

Ardeth raised a shaking hand to her cheek and caressed her face with his thumb. "I love you," he told her gently, his voice barely audible above the rising inferno.

The queen of the Med-jai took one look at the love and defeat in her husband's eyes and slapped him across the face, hard. "Don't you dare!" she screamed. She slapped him again. "Do you hear me?"

The Med-jai king could only stare at her. Where was the docile woman he married? Where was the librarian? Who was this strong woman? This warrior? In that instant he sympathized greatly with his brother.

Khay got beneath his shoulder again and braced herself. "Now," she said deliberately and with great force, "you will stand!" And with that she heaved herself upright, bringing Ardeth's pain-filled body up with her. He cried out as his burned feet touched the floor but she ignored him. Choking on the thickening smoke, she stumbled forward and Ardeth had no choice but to follow, lest he fall and bury her beneath him; for all that he had no strength left, he would not endanger her. She must escape this place. She would not die here in this flaming hell.

The blaze that hungrily devoured the dry woodpile was now leaping outward, seeking fuel for its' all-consuming hunger. The yellow glow suffused the cellar with a bright, eerie light that was quickly dulling as gray smoke filled the space. A lucky tendril of flame found another source of food, the wooden pillars overhead, and began to feast eagerly. Crackles and pops filled the room with an ever-increasing din until the sound of the inferno masked all other sounds.

Step by agonizing step Khayriyyah and Ardeth made their way through the thick smoke toward the stairs; choking and coughing they stumbled along the uneven stones toward the stairs, knowing that Rick was on the other side trying to break in. It was their only hope. They had almost reached the bottom step when Ardeth's legs finally failed him and they both fell forward.

Ardeth felt himself falling but there was no pain upon impact. The fiery world around him was already fading at the edges and he could no longer fight against the blackness that was once again pulling him under its' dark spell. Khay saw this in the yellow light that surrounded them.

"NO!" she shrieked. "I will not let you do this! I will not concede!"

"My Heart, you must go." Ardeth's voice was so soft Khay had to put her face next to his to hear him. "You must escape this."

"No! I will not lose you again! I will not, do you hear?"

"We will meet again. I promise." A bout of intense coughing seized him then and his body folded in on itself in pain. "Please. Go," he rasped weakly through gasping efforts to breathe. "Our people ... need you. Azizah ... will ... need you. Khayriyyah, my Heart, you must ... do ... this for ... me. "

"Ardeth!" Khay's tears marked a trail down the dark soot on her face. "Do not leave me."

But the exhaustion and darkness had finally won. Ardeth was unconscious.

Khay's throat contracted with rage; rage at the men who had done this to her love, rage at her lack of physical strength, and rage at the fates that would dare to part her from her Heart when she had only just found him after all those lifetimes. Helpless to do anything else to help Ardeth, she made use of the last weapon in her arsenal. Praying that the others were close enough to hear, she screamed.

"MED-JAI! TO YOUR KING!"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 17 – Out of the Flames**

Rick and Nadhir had managed to chop away half of the door when the American suddenly faltered. His eyes glazed and he swayed slightly. Nadhir grasped his shoulder and shook him.

"O'Connell! O'Connell, what is it?"

"Ardeth..." Rick whispered. "He's ... "Suddenly, he gasped and his body went rigid. "Oh my God! Ardeth!" Rick threw himself against the door with a fury in the same instant Khayriyyah's cry echoed up the stairs. He hacked away at the wood like a man possessed, his former fear turning to terror at the anguish in the Med-jai queen's voice. When enough of the wood had been turned to splinters, Rick threw aside his axe and began to pull at the timbers with his hands. Other hands reached in to help, but he was unaware of them, unaware of the splinters that were driven deep into his fingers and palms. He was aware only of the need to reach his brother before it was too late, for he knew that if Ardeth died this time, there would be no bringing him back.

After what seemed like an eternity, the opening was big enough to allow him to pass and he dove into the inferno with Nadhir and several of the Med-jai behind him. Abandoning care for fear-fueled concern, they surged down the stairs, ignoring the thick smoke that blinded them and choked them.

"Khay!" Rick screamed. "Where are you?"

"Here! We are here! Hurry!"

The voice was ahead of him, not too far. Rick ducked his head, trying to get below the smoke that obscured his vision. "Keep talking!" he yelled. "I can't see you!"

"Over... here!" Khay yelled, her voice breaking as she coughed. "Here!"

As Rick stumbled forward, a shape began to emerge. He could make out a black shadow among the gray smoke and orange glow, a black shadow that formed into Med-jai robes. Khay was on kneeling the floor, Ardeth lying next to her, his head in her lap. Rick was on his knees before his feet had stopped moving, and his mind reeled at the sight of his brother.

Lying on the floor in the shifting orange and yellow light of the dancing flames, Ardeth looked like a nightmare spectre felled by some violent force. His face was bruised and swollen, his handsome features distorted by the blows that had fallen. His chest was also bruised and Rick could see angry red lines that could only be burns. His eyes rose to Khay's and she could see the horror in them.

"We have to get him out of here," she whispered in a choked voice that barely carried above the sound of the fire.

"Are you hurt?" Rick asked her.

Khay shook her head got to her feet. Rick turned to his left, knowing that Nadhir would be there. Together, they lifted Ardeth up far enough for Rick to get under the warrior's midsection. He stood up, Ardeth draped over his shoulders and headed for the stairs. He could hear the wooden support beams giving way behind him. With a strength he had no idea he even possessed, Rick climbed the stairs as if he carried nothing. He emerged into the light of the upstairs as the electric lamps began to flicker, responding to the beast that ate away at the wires. With several of the waiting Med-jai leading the way, he ran through the house, the rest of the rescuing party and Khay following close behind.

As they made to enter the great room and make for the front door, the floor in the middle of the room gave way and giant flames leapt up into the grand space.

"We have to go another way!" Nadhir yelled as they stopped short. "Marcus, where is the closest way out of here?" He asked one of the Med-jai near him.

The one called pointed back behind them. "The library! Follow me!"

The group followed Marcus as he sprinted back into the hallway and away from the center of the house. He pushed open the library doors with enough force to send the doorknobs breaking through the plaster walls. "There are no doors," he informed them as they filtered in, "but there are plenty of windows."

He took one of the leather reading chairs and sent it flying into the huge picture windows; windows Sidney Black had been looking out only a short time before. Glass splintered and rained down in shards as the heavy chair flew out into the garden. Another Med-jai followed suit and a second chair forged a path through the glass wall. Still, the crashing glass could not cover the sound of the growing fire. Nadhir looked out into the hallway and saw that the floor there was beginning to give way.

"We are running out of time!" he yelled to the room.

Marcus grabbed a tall hook, designed to open and close the venting windows, and cleared away the hanging shards, making it safe to pass. The group ran from the house and into the cool, clean air of the evening, just as the floor in front of the library doors fell into the burning cellar. They slowed only when they had put a great expanse of lawn between themselves and the flaming house.

They were a terrible sight in the moonlight. The robes of those who'd been in the basement had holes burned into them and their faces, where they had not been covered by their face cloths were covered with soot. Rick's white shirt was black and his khaki trousers were now a dull gray. Most of them were coughing, trying to force the smoke from their lungs. Marcus laid his singed outer robe on the ground and Nadhir helped Rick lower Ardeth into Khay's waiting arms.

"How is he?" Nadhir asked softly

"Not good." Khay chafed one of Ardeth's hands in hers. "We must get him to a healer."

"I'll get the car," Marcus volunteered.

"Make it fast, we don't wanna be around when the authorities show up. Come on, brother. Don't do this to me." Rick grabbed Ardeth's other hand and began rubbing that as well. His eyes did not miss the glaring red sores that ringed the strong wrists. After a moment, Ardeth began to cough.

"Help me turn him," Khay commanded, "it will be easier for him to breathe if he's not on his back." Gently the Med-jai king was turned onto his side. The coughing became more intense and Ardeth let out a strangled moan.

"That's it," Rick coaxed, still holding onto to his hand. He could see the warrior struggling to regain consciousness and reached out his other hand to rub Ardeth's shoulder. He felt something sticky beneath his fingers and in the pale moonlight he saw dark smudges that carried the unmistakable smell of blood. Unable to stop himself, he slowly pulled away the cloak that shielded Ardeth's back.

Rick had not felt such anger in a very long time. His whole body clenched with fury and the hands that had worked to soothe his brother were now fisted on his knees. He could feel the anger of those around him as well. It was radiating off the watching Med-jai warriors in waves. He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that the image of Ardeth's mangled back would be imprinted on his memory forever.

Ardeth's back was crisscrossed with long red slashes, the tattoos that had been so painstakingly imprinted along his spine irreparably damaged. Long red welts rose up along Ardeth's sides in places, welts that were clearly the result of torture by burning.

The Med-jai's torso was bruised in so many places it was unclear if there was any unmarked skin left. Rick felt certain that the swollen areas around Ardeth's ribcage were indicative of broken, or at the very least cracked, bones. Ardeth continued to cough, and his body pulled itself inward, trying to ease the pain that wracked him. When he moved his legs, Rick could see that more burns had been dealt to the insides of his brother's thighs.

"He's mine," Rick ground out through teeth that were clenched so tightly he felt his jaw might crack.

Nadhir, beside him, gave him a startled look. "What?" he asked, not quite sure what the tall American could possibly mean.

"Whoever did this. He's mine."

To their complete shock, Khay barked out a short, curt laugh. "You're too late," she informed them.

"He's dead?" Rick asked her, sounding very unhappy about that fact.

"How?" her father wanted to know.

"I killed him," Khay told them with blazing eyes and a feral sneer that seemed completely out of sync with her pretty face. "I took the dog's life at the end of my blade. I would that he had faced our justice but there was no time. So I gutted his heart and left him to bleed."

There was silence for a moment while the words took hold. Then, one by one, the Med-jai knelt. Rick watched, slightly dazed, as the silent warriors took out their knives and he thought for a moment they meant to kill her for denying them their prize, but to his amazement, they ran the sharp blades over their hands and drew blood. Then each of them rose and in a grim procession they laid their bloodied hands upon her head.

"What are they doing?" Rick wondered aloud in a whisper.

"They are anointing her," Nadhir told him, his voice thick with pride and another emotion Rick couldn't quite identify.

"As what?"

"As a warrior. They have named her one of their own."

"All Med-jai women are warriors ... aren't they?"

"They are all trained to fight, yes. But to honor one as a blood brother, as one of the sacred, that has not been done in five hundred years."

Having said this, Nadhir slowly rose and sliced his own hand. Tears rolled down his face as he placed it on his daughter's head. Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek. Khay looked up at her father but she shed no tears. Instead, her eyes were bright and determined and they held a strength of character Nadhir knew he had never seen before. The emotion betrayed a moment ago in his voice clamped down hard on his heart and Nadhir recognized it immediately. It was the despair of farewell. As of tonight, the girl he'd raised was gone forever and he would never have her back. In her stead was a woman, fierce and proud. He held her eyes for a moment longer, all the love and pride he felt for her plain for her to see. Nadhir then studied his daughter's soot-black face, wanting to imprint this moment in his mind for, as much as it pained him, it made him prouder than he could ever have words to express. After looking his fill, he left her side and knelt with his clansmen. Then, as one, they bowed their heads to Khayriyyah Bey, Queen of the Med-jai.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 – Almost there**

From the quiet warmth of Jonathan Carnahan's arms, Azizah watched as Evy made turn after turn around the cozy sitting room, fluffing pillows and straightening the large array of collectibles that were decoratively displayed. Every now and then the little girl would steal a glance at Alex and saw that, he too, was watching his mother. Finally, the Med-jai princess's curiosity got the better of her and she lifted her head to whisper in her 'uncle's' ear.

"What is she doing, Uncle Jon?"

"Oh, that." Jonathan sighed deeply and he and Alex exchanged a look before he looked down at his small charge. "That's what Evy calls 'tidying up a bit'."

"But what she's really doing is pacing", Alex informed her in the same whispered tone. "It drives Dads crazy."

"Yes, and he's not the only one," the elder Carnahan remarked dryly.

Azizah frowned. "Why does she do this?"

"Well, your Aunt Evy's nervous, you see. And when she's nervous she has to be busy doing something. So she begins to fluff every pillow she can get her hands on …"

"Then Mum rearranges every knick-knack in the house …"

"Or pulls at the draperies until they hang just so …"

"Or decides the pictures or crooked …

"Until something else happens to take her mind off what's making her nervous…"

"Driving the rest of us completely nuts in the process."

The girl's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why can she not simply sit quietly and wait?"

The girl's question brought howls of laughter from her two companions. Evy started and gave a small shriek of fright at the sudden noise, bumping the table next to her. A small ceramic bowl went bouncing along the carpeted floor.

"What? What happened?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. But she got no answer; Jonathan and Alex were too busy slapping their hands over their mouths, trying to muffle their mirth. "Oh, you two. What on earth is so funny? Especially now?"

"Nothing," Jonathan choked out, desperately trying to calm himself. "Uh … we were just …"

"Just talking is all," Alex managed after holding his breath for a moment.

Evelyn O'Connell's eyes narrowed as she took their measure but decided it wasn't worth pursuing. Besides, she was certain she'd be happier not knowing what had set them off. Her gaze softened a bit as it moved to Azizah, who looked as puzzled as she certainly felt. The girl only shrugged and cuddled back against Jonathan's shoulder. Evy gave a heartfelt sigh of frustration. "Honestly," she muttered and she knelt to retrieve the bowl. She felt a brush of air beside her and looked over to see Alex's concerned face.

"We're sorry, Mum. Really. It isn't broken is it?"

She smiled at her son and ruffled his hair. "No, it's not broken. And don't fret about laughing. I guess … it just seems like forever since anyone laughed around here." Evy sat heavily on the floor. "I _hate_ this waiting! I hate not knowing what's going on."

"Do not worry, Aunt Evy," Azizah assured her as she hopped off Jonathan's lap and knelt down with them. "They will find my father and bring him home. I know they will."

Evy reached out and put a gentle hand on Azizah's face. "I know, sweetheart. It's just that I'm a bit nervous."

"Have you run out of things to tidy?" Azizah wanted to know, an earnest look on her face.

"Tidy?"

"Yes. Alex and Uncle Jon say that that is what you do when you are waiting. You tidy." She failed to see Alex waving furiously at her to stop. "You must rearrange all the things around you until you are done being nervous."

"Oh, I do, do I?" Again her eyes narrowed. "What else do I do, I wonder?"

"You drive everyone nuts. Although I have had many different kinds of nuts and I do not see how they can be driven."

"Jonathan …" Evy's voice rose dangerously.

Jonathan sprang to his feet and took immediate refuge in custom. "Oh, my, I see the tea's gone cold. I'll just fetch some more then, shall I?" He grabbed the teapot and scurried from the room.

"Alex …"

"Oh, gosh! Uncle Jon forgot the cake tray. Can't have tea without cakes now can we?" Evy watched him disappear as quickly as his uncle had.

Azizah looked around at the now empty room and frowned. "Where have they gone?"

Evy stood up and helped Azizah to rise. "That, Azizah, it what you call a tactical retreat." She looked at the little girl and smiled gently. "Now, let's say we forgo the tea and see if we can't find some hot chocolate. Perhaps that will calm my nerves. What do you say?"

The child licked her lips and Evy chuckled. "Hot chocolate it is. And perhaps Mrs. McLearan has finished with those cookies she was baking earlier. What do you say we find out?"

"I think perhaps that would be much better than tidying," Azizah assured her with a hopeful smile.

"I think perhaps you're right." Evy took her niece's hand in hers and headed for the kitchen. They were halfway there when the doorbell rang.

_Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. _

The words ran like a mantra in Rick's mind as the car hurtled through the city. He kept one arm tightly clasped around his brother's waist and the other pressed to Ardeth's chest, reassuring himself that the strong heart within the bruised and battered frame still beat. Ardeth had come around somewhat after being in the fresh air but had lost consciousness when they moved him. Some of the London Med-jai had stopped along the way to phone the tribe's healer who was back in town. He couldn't remember her name. She was on the way to the manor house now and that was all that mattered. Rick hoped she got there soon.

"How's he doing?" The words slipped from him for the third time in ten minutes.

Khay looked up at him from where she was tying strips of Rick's shirt around her husband's bleeding feet. She managed a grim smile. "He is alive, and that is well enough for now."

"Khay… "

The woman reached out and placed her hand over the one that lay on Ardeth's chest and answered the unasked question. "We will not lose him, Rick. I personally guarantee it."

The American studied her for a moment then nodded. He trusted Khay. She would not let Ardeth die. None of them could go through that again.

Beyond the confines of the sedan, the cityscape changed to countryside. They were almost there.

Evy stood in the middle of the foyer, her eyes going from the Med-jai guards who guarded the entryway to the door itself. She was aware that Jonathan, Alex, and Azizah, not to mention several other Med-jai stood behind her waiting for her to give the order for the door to be opened. She hated this awkward hesitation but couldn't seem to help herself. What if it was bad news? What if the worst had happened and she'd lost Rick as well as Ardeth? After all, it wasn't Rick at the door, he wouldn't ring the bell. And it wasn't an enemy; they wouldn't have gotten past the guards at the driveway. It must be someone the Med-jai trusted enough to let through but who? And what could they want? They had enough guards. I had to be someone with news, but what news? She found herself unsure she could take it, whatever it was.

_Get a grip on yourself, Evelyn_, she told herself firmly. Determined to be as strong as she always prided herself to be, Evy took a deep breath and willed the nervous tension that had surged through her when the bell rang into submission. Finally, she nodded and the guards pulled the door open. It was a woman. She was older, probably in her fifties, her dark, grey-streaked hair pinned into a stylish twist against her head. She wore the clothes of a well-heeled Englishwoman but she was London Med-jai, of that Evy was certain. She had the confident air they all carried and the dark looks of the tribe.

"Are you Evelyn O'Connell?" the stranger asked.

"Yes, I'm Evelyn O'Connell."

"I am Sara Beckham. I come with news."

Evy's hands twisted together. She could feel the group behind her take a collective step forward. Not trusting her voice, she nodded, silently asking the woman to be swift in her pronouncement.

"Ardeth Bey has been found alive. They are bringing him here as we speak."

"Is he alright?"

"Yes, but he is injured. That is why I am here. I am the tribe's healer."

"I thought Khay was the healer?" Alex's voice was meant to be quiet, but it carried nonetheless in the small space of the foyer.

Sara looked beyond Evelyn O'Connell to the boy behind her. "She is my apprentice, and an excellent one at that. But together we will be better able to help Ardeth Bey."

"Was … " Evy couldn't help herself, she had to ask. "Was anyone hurt?" _Was my husband hurt? _

"There were no significant injuries to the Med-jai." Sara Beckham looked at her and smiled slightly. _Your husband is safe_. Evy could almost hear the words in her head. The rush of relief that swept through her made her slightly breathless and she felt her knees tremble as the adrenaline rush of the past few days left her. She was vaguely aware that someone was now standing beside her, offering a supporting arm around her waist.

"Evy? Are you alright?"

It was Jonathan, bless him. But why did he sound so far away?

"Mum?"

The room began to spin. Evy remembered feeling this way once before, and she hadn't like it then either. Slowly, the past event and present situation coalesced in her muddied mind. "Bloody hell," was all she said as the room went black and she fainted dead away in her brother's arms.


	20. Chapter 20 revised

Chapter 20 – Safe and Sound 

Rick paced the hall in front of Ardeth's bedroom, refusing to leave until he'd heard from the healer within as to his brother's condition. They'd been in there with him for almost two hours and Rick was beginning to fear the worst. Ardeth had looked terrible when they finally got him into enough light to see clearly. His back had been crisscrossed with lashes, his body was covered in bruises and burns, and he was unbelievably weak.

_He's not dying_, Rick told himself. _He's not dying, so stop even thinking it_.

_Easier said than done, O'Connell_, his mind argued back. _Ardeth looks like hell and you know it._

_That doesn't mean anything. Anyone would look like that after two days in that hellhole_.

_But this is Ardeth we're talking about._

_So what if it is? He's only human. Being Med-jai doesn't make him any less human. _

_Susceptible to human pain and weakness, you mean. _

Rick realized the conversation wasn't helping any so he firmly told himself to shut the hell up and forcibly turned off the internal debate that was ringing through his head. He paused a moment to look at his wife who sat calmly in one of the hallway chairs watching him.

"Penny for your thoughts", she asked quietly.

"They aren't worth a penny," Rick growled without meaning to. Immediately contrite, he took the seat next to her, put his head in his hands and sighed. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean…"

Evy put a hand on his knee and squeezed. "I know. It's alright. But Ardeth will be fine. I'm sure of it."

Rick raised his head and looked into her eyes. "But **how** do you know? How, Evy?"

She smiled an enigmatic little smile and squeezed again. "Women's intuition."

The American laid a hand against his wife's face. "I love you Evelyn O'Connell. You know that?"

Evy beamed at him. "Yes, I know."

He studied her face for a moment, noticing that she looked a little pale but happy, happier than finding Ardeth in his present condition should have made her. And if he wasn't mistaken there was a secret peeking out of her eyes just at the corner. It was a look he knew well and didn't always trust. His eyes narrowed. "What?" he asked. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Not now. I promise I will tell you later."

"Evy…"

Evy put a finger to his lips to ward off further questions. "Later." She was saved from having to put him off further by the appearance of Sara Beckham at Ardeth's door. The O'Connell's rose as one and both took a step towards her, speaking at the same time.

"Well?"

"How is he?"

The healer smiled at them. "He will be fine. His injuries are not as dire as first feared and he will make a full recovery."

"But he was so weak." Rick heard her words but didn't believe them. There must be something she wasn't telling them.

"Dehydration, the after affects of the chloroform, sleep deprivation, shock, trauma – one or even two of them together might be easy enough for a man of Ardeth Bey's stamina to overcome, but combined …" Sara let her voice trail off. It was sometimes best to let those most concerned make the link for themselves.

"It was too much for him," the tall American concluded after a moment.

Sara nodded. "But not too much for him now that he is here and safe and being cared for. With rest and Khay's fine skills he will be fine. You have my word on it."

Evy held out her hand and smiled at the healer. "How can we ever thank you?"

"Yes," Rick added, "if you ever need anything…"

"I am grateful for the opportunity to serve my king," Sara told them as she shook their hands. "If you will excuse me, there are some things I need to finish up. I only took a moment to apprise you of how he was doing."

"Of course. Thank you for letting us know, I can't tell you how much we appreciate this."

"You are most welcome." Sara turned her smiling gaze on Evelyn. "Now that you know that Ardeth is safe and will be well, it is time for you to see to yourself as we agreed. Rest, and a hot meal; a full hot meal, understood?"

Evy nodded and, on impulse, embraced the woman. "Thank you for everything, Sara."

Sara Beckham squeezed the Englishwoman in return and released her with a smile. "I must return to Ardeth Bey. If you need me, Evelyn, for anything, you know how to reach me." And then she was gone, back inside Ardeth's bedroom, leaving the couple standing in the hall.

Rick waited for Evy to explain the healer's words but his wife only stared into space as if she was engrossed in another one of her past life visions. After two minutes of her quiet contemplation of the wall, he cleared his throat. Blinking, Evy gave him a startled smile, as if she was completely surprised to see her husband standing next to her.

"Uh, Evy, would you like to tell me what that was all about?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sara Beckham surveyed the tiny even stitches that crisscrossed Ardeth Bey's back and nodded in satisfaction.

"These stitches are some of the best I have ever seen. The scars will be barely noticeable over time. You are very skilled, Khay." She had taught Khay well and the young woman's skills were now comparable to her own. She told her as much and Khay blushed with the praise.

"You are the one with great skills, Sara," she told her. "You are an excellent teacher."

"Ah, but the teacher is only as good as the student and you have been an excellent student. "Sara looked at the woman whom she had delivered into this world, the woman who was now her queen and smiled. "You have done well, Khayriyyah Bey. There is no more I can teach you. Your apprenticeship is complete."

Khay smiled at the healer and embraced her warmly. "You will never be done teaching me, Sara. I will always have need to call upon your knowledge, I am certain of that."

"I will always be here for you to ask," Sara assured her, then she laughed lightly. "Well, not always."

"For many years to come then," Khay said, kissing the woman on the cheeks. She looked into her eyes with tears shining in her own. "Thank you so much - for everything."

Sara touched her hands to Khay's face. "You are most welcome. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to see you happy. I wish you long and happy life with your warrior. Such a love as yours does not come along in every lifetime. I know you will find joy in all things with him. I leave him in your capable hands. I will return tomorrow to see how things are going. If you have need of me before then, you know where to reach me. If I am called away, I will leave word where I am."

Khay helped her teacher gather her things and then embraced her one more time. "Thank you again, Sara. I will see you tomorrow." She closed the door behind her as she left and then sank down with a heavy sigh into the overstuffed chair by Ardeth's bed. She took in the battered form of her husband as he lay face down on the bed, his body lax in unconsciousness and her eyes closed for a moment.

"Allah," she prayed, "please let this be the last for a while. He needs to rest. **We** need to rest. Let us be at peace, for a while at least. Let us find respite before the next battle was must fight."

She took another deep breath and let it out. Her hand went to her head and she scratched at the blood that had dried on her scalp and she remembered the way the warriors had honored her as she knelt by Ardeth's side in the cool grass.

"This warrior queen would like nothing more than a hot bath and some clothes that did not reek of smoke," she mumbled to herself as she once again had time to notice the rank smell of her clothing.

In all the haste of treating her husband's wounds, she had not really paid attention to the fact that she remained in her soiled garments but now that the crisis had passed she was keenly aware of how desperately she needed to bathe and change. The clothes that Ardeth had been wearing had been stripped off him when they brought him in. The torn and bloody cloth that had been his trousers and shirt lay crumpled in a heap on the floor and the sight of them was enough to stoke the anger that Khay thought had dissipated with his rescue.

Without a thought for what she was doing, Khay hurled herself out of the chair and attacked the pile. She tore at the rags with her bare hands. The already damaged silk and linen was shredded into strips as she attacked it. She was unaware that there were inarticulate sounds of rage emanating from her throat as she remembered what had been to her man. She did not notice the tears that streaked down her cheeks and left tracks in the soot that still covered her face. Khay was only aware of her hands. The clothes beneath her fingers were the throats of those who had done this and she would not stop until there was nothing left to shred. Finally, there were no pieces big enough left for her to grasp and she convulsed into sobs, the rage turning to something else as she recognized that she had killed this night. And while Sidney Black had deserved to die and she was not sorry to have done it, it was still a great burden to have taken the life of another and she felt it keenly in this moment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What was what all about?" Evy asked as she opened their bedroom door.

"What that healer just said… about rest and a meal? Are you okay? You're not sick are you?"

"Of course I'm not sick," Evy scoffed, as if it were the silliest thing in the world for him to suggest. She went into the bedroom and sat on her dressing stool, slipping off her shoes as she spoke. "What makes you think I'm sick?"

"The healer," Rick said again, very slowly. "She said you needed rest and a hot meal. That's kind of strange advice and I thought maybe there was something wrong with you." Something about his wife's soft pooh-pooh of dismissal put the American on guard. "I know there's something you're keeping from me." His eyes narrowed as he paced toward her. "I can tell."

"I can assure you I am definitely not sick." Evy assured him as she peeled off her stockings.

"It's the stress of the past few days, isn't it? You haven't been sleeping any more than I have."

"Rick… "

"I should have had you drink a few shots of that unblended scotch I hide from Jonathan."

"Rick… "

"That would have done the trick."

"RICK!"

"What?"

"There is something I need to tell you."

Rick raised his hands in surrender. "I knew it. I know that look. What is it now? More pleasant oases? Hidden treasures? Is Jonathan involved?"

"No, nothing like that," Evy assured him as she shook her head. "It's just that … "she took a deep breath, "I fainted today."

"You? Fainted? Today?" He took the sentence and turned it into three questions.

"Yes. Shortly before you arrived here with Ardeth."

"That's all of it? That's all you have to tell me?" Rick looked at his wife as she was joking. He searched her expressive face for signs that there was more to follow but she sat calmly on the dressing stool watching him.

"Well, yes, actually."

His relief was palpable in the confines of their room and he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Jeez, Evy. Don't scare me like that. I thought something was really wrong with you, you know? I mean the whole get rest and eat a good meal thing … honestly it sounded like you sound with Alex when he's sick. Why didn't you just come out and tell me it was just the stress of it all?"

"Rick," Evy smiled at him much like she would a small child who didn't quite get the point of a conversation. "I fainted."

"Yeah, but you've fainted before, right? That time in Cairo, remember?"

"Did I?" A smile was threatening at the corners of her mouth but Evy held it in check. She would not help Rick through this one; it was too much fun watching him muddle through it on his own.

"Yeah. It was hot, remember? Really hot, especially for the time of year. You scared the heck out of me. You really don't remember?" Rick found it hard to believe she couldn't recall the event, but since she was putting her shoes away at the moment and he couldn't see her face he continued as if she didn't. "I wanted to take you to that American clinic but you didn't want to go. I finally told you that if you went to the clinic I would go to Morocco to help you look through the library. That doctor there was THE youngest doctor I have ever seen in my life and when he told me you were pregnant … you thought I was upset about the baby but then I told you I was upset because that teenager examined you."

"He was completely competent, I assure you, and hardly a teenager," Evy pointed out as her husband continued to ramble.

"Well he sure looked like one. At least you remember. I was beginning to think that maybe fainting today affected your memory."

"How could I forget being told I was going to be a mother?" she asked him softly as she padded barefoot across the carpet towards the bed.

"Yeah, well I know **I'll** never forget it. It was … "his voice trailed off as he tried to find the right words.

"Scary?" Evy provided helpfully.

"Well, yeah, but exhilarating, too, like flying."

"So you enjoyed the feeling?" she wondered as she stole into his arms.

"Yes. I did. And being a father has been … great." He smiled up at her. "Challenging, but great."

"Would you do it again?"

"Be a father? You know I would. But we can't, honey. That doctor, after Alex was born, he said you wouldn't be able to conceive again."

Evy gazed into her husband's face, into the eyes that were tinged with regret for what they could never have and tried to put into words what she thought she'd never be able to say again. "I don't know if it has anything to do with what happened last year, with my dying and then coming back but it seems that the doctor was wrong," she said slowly.

Rick stared at his beaming wife and felt the world tilt just a bit underneath him. After a moment he blinked and shook his head as if he'd been daydreaming and suddenly realized it. "What?" he asked stupidly.

She took a deep breath. "Rick, I'm pregnant. Sara told me this afternoon, before you got home. That's why I fainted."

The flickers of hope and joy began to shine in O'Connell's eyes, warring with doubt and years of fruitless trying. "Are you sure? Is she sure? Absolutely sure?"

Evy nodded. "She is. I am. I'd missed two of my cycles but I didn't dare think anything of it. It's real, Rick. You're going to be a father again."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ardeth!" Khay gasped in a choked whisper, as she realized who held her. She pulled away from him and lightly grasped his shoulders. "Oh, Ardeth!" Her joy at seeing him awake warred with the thought that it was her distress that woken him. "You shouldn't be up."

Ardeth hushed his wife by laying a gentle finger across her lips. "You needed me," he said hoarsely, as if that explained everything. "Nothing in all of this earth could keep me from you when you have such need of me."

Khay looked into his eyes, still dark with pain and the effects of his ordeal, and instead of the reassuring words she meant to say she could only blurt out what had been foremost in her mind since she had found him. "You were going to leave me," she told him, accusation creeping into her voice. "You told me to go on without you and you were going to let yourself die in there. You were going to leave me alone."

The Med-jai warrior hung his head in shame and remorse. "I am so sorry, my Heart. Forgive me, I beg you. I was … it was … I knew I had not the strength to go any further. I was afraid you would stay with me and that you would perish. I could not bear the thought of you dying in those flames. I could not bear the thought that I would be responsible for the death of another woman I loved."

"And you were willing to leave me alone to perish in misery? To spend every day of my remaining years mourning you?" Khay surged to her feet. Too many emotions had warred within her in the past several days and now there was only anger left. "How could you, Ardeth? How could you even think it?"

Ardeth stayed on his knees, his head bowed to the floor. His whole body radiated with regret and shame.

"I was…" the choked, painful whisper ended as his throat closed with tears. He shook his head, refusing to look at her. It was all he had left. There were no words to convey his sorrow at his selfishness.

Khay stood before her husband shaking with rage. "Look at me!" she commanded. "Look at me!"

Inch by inch Ardeth raised his head, keeping his face down until he had no choice but to lift it to her face. Even then, he kept his eyes closed. Khay gasped at what she saw. Tears flowed down her warrior's face, leaking out from his closed lids. Slowly, his eyes opened and her anger was erased as she took in the grief that filled the dark, grief and pain and self-loathing, all amplified by the glistening tears.

"Forgive me." His mouth formed the words his throat would not allow to pass.

Khay's heart had relented but she still needed him to understand that his actions were unacceptable. "Promise me," she demanded, "that you will **never **do **anything **like that again. I am your queen, a Med-jai warrior, not some woman you must protect and keep. Understand that and promise me, Ardeth Bey."

The warrior said nothing, but bowed low against the floor and rested his forehead on her feet, the tears against her skin sealing his word.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: I cannot express how sorry I am that this story was sidelined for so long. My life took turns I did not foresee and this story began to end up further and further down on my priority list. I only hope that, in the end, the wait was worthwhile. X.M.

**Chapter 21 – Coming to Terms**

"I'm home!" Rick yelled as he walked in the mansion's front door. It took him a moment to realize that there was no response.

"Hello?" he called into the quiet. "Ardeth? Khay? Alex? Azizah?" Then, finally, "Anybody?" He waited a moment but the silent house spoke volumes. Finding it odd that no one was around to greet him, Rick engaged in a puzzled search through a house that was supposed to be full of people. He was the only who'd left that he was aware of. He'd gone to the docks to drop off the bulk of the Bey's luggage. Ardeth, Khay and Azizah were sailing in two days and he'd hoped to spend the day with them all. After checking all the rooms, he wandered into the kitchen and found Mrs. McLearan.

"Hey, Mrs. M, have you seen Ardeth? Or Khay? Or my wife? Actually, I'm looking for anybody," he admitted with a grin.

"Oh, you poor dear! Of course you are!" The older woman tapped a flour coated finger to her chin as she thought. "Well, now, Mrs. O'Connell and Mrs. Bey went off to do some last minute shopping in town. Young Alex and Miss Azizah went off somewhere, and I saw Mr. Bey walk out the parlor doors and head for the Small Woods not too long ago."

"Well, I guess that covers it, thanks, Mrs. M. Since we have no idea where Alex and Ziz are off to, I guess I'll go try the woods."

"Well, off you go then. Mind, supper's at seven tonight at Mrs. O'Connell's request so don't wander too far."

Rick grabbed a couple of cookies off the ever present plate on the kitchen sideboard and grinned at his housekeeper. "Me miss dinner? Won't happen. What are we having?"

"Never you mind, now scoot. I have work to do!" Mrs. McLearan shooed at him with a large wooden spoon, and Rick scooted out, grabbing another handful of cookies as he left. He skipped going through the parlor door and left through the kitchen instead, heading in the direction of the trees.

The Small Woods, as it had been known since before the manse was built over a century before, was not all that small as the name implied. It actually covered almost eighty acres and ringed a small, clear lake. It was one of the reasons Rick and Evy had bought the property. Something about the privacy of it was irresistibly romantic to the newlyweds, and, after Alex had come along, it had proven a glorious playground for a growing boy. Not to mention the attraction of a built in swimming pool, as Jonathan like to call it. The Woods also called to something deep in Ardeth's soul. He loved the desert, it was his home; and it was to the sandy reaches and exotic oases that he would always return. But the woods, with the dim green light and cool breezes, the damp smell of earth and growing things, was like a siren song he couldn't resist. And the lake! He didn't believe he had ever seen water so blue. He had seen lakes in other lands, even in his homeland, but nothing rivaled the deep blue of this water hiding on the O'Connell's land. He stood on the bank and breathed deeply of the smell of green and water. He was leaving England soon. And only Allah knew when he would return. Something was brewing in the world, the papers confirmed it. Ardeth knew without a doubt that this trouble in Germany would spread far. But that was far away, at least for the moment. Future troubles could wait; he would enjoy what time he had. With that thought, he shed his clothes and waded into the cool, clear water.

Rick blinked as the bright afternoon sunlight vanished into a dimmer green underneath the trees. Picking what he thought to be a likely direction, he headed out in search of his brother. After half an hour of fruitless wandering he decided he had no idea where Bey would have gone.

"Now, if I were a Med-jai warrior wandering around an English forest, where would I go?" he wondered aloud as he walked. He stopped suddenly as a thought occurred to him. He wasn't looking for just any Med-jai warrior, he was looking for Ardeth. His twin. "Rick, you _really_ oughta be used to this by now," he chided himself. A soft laugh sounded in his head and he frowned.

_How long have you known I was looking for you, you arrogant bastard?_ he sent loudly through the channel he shared with the king.

_Since you arrived home_, came the laughing reply.

_Where are you, dammit?_

More laughter greeted him, then the link faded, and Rick knew that Ardeth wasn't going to tell him jack. He was on his own. Taking a few enjoyable moments to mutter aloud at the audacity and arrogance of tribal kings Rick then worked at clearing his mind and focusing in on the presence of his brother that was, as of now, ever present in his mind. It was, frustratingly enough, ridiculously easy.

_Should you be swimming?_ he demanded roughly as he headed in the right direction.

_You know that I am well healed,_ came the calm response.

_When I get there, I'm gonna dunk you so far under U-boats won't be able to find you._

Ardeth's laughter again came through loud and clear, and Rick realized how much he liked hearing that sound. _You are welcome to try, Ahi._

_Ahi? What the hell does that mean?  
_

_Will not tell you. Perhaps it will prevent you from drowning me,_ came the teasing reply.

_Not bloody likely, Med-jai. Not bloody likely._Rick's prickly mood was quickly evaporating as he bantered with this unlikely soul mate. The insults continued to fly as Rick steadily made his way toward the lake. By the time he reached the shore and had shed his clothes, the American and the Egyptian had escalated to making threats that would be anatomically impossible under the best of circumstances.

"I was unaware," Ardeth mused audibly as Rick swam up to him, commenting on the American's most recent remark, "that camels were jointed in such a way to perform that particular maneuver. Especially given that goats are so much smaller."

"Depends on the goat," Rick retorted as he stopped to tread water next to Ardeth.

Ardeth didn't reply. Instead he gracefully let his body float to the surface and, balancing on his back, he stared at the azure sky overhead. "This is truly beautiful," he sighed as he let the water take his weight. The playful mood faded away as he watched the clouds meandering overhead. "I wish…" He let his voice trail off. Wishing would get him nowhere. There was no genii to grant the king that particular request.

"Yeah." Rick sighed as well. "Still, it's not like forever." There was a small part of him that still marveled at how he knew exactly what Ardeth was feeling. He didn't imagine that would ever go away, nor did he want it to, if he was honest with himself. This bond was beyond any words he had to describe it and he had no words to tell anyone what it meant to him. But he knew that Ardeth knew. And that was enough. "We'll be in Egypt soon enough."

"Mm."

Silence descended over the two men as the floated in the cool water and let their thoughts wander. This was akin to the time they had spent overlooking the Garden City, but better. Especially since Ardeth wasn't anywhere near the brink of death at the moment. "And hopefully won't be for about eighty years to come," Rick thought with an inner shudder. He had come too close to losing this newfound brother of his too many times in recent memory, and thinking about it never ceased to give him the heebie-jeebies, to coin Alex's new favorite saying.

"I saw the newspaper today," Ardeth said suddenly, breaking the moment and coming upright.

"It'll pass. Hitler won't get far."

Ardeth made a face at the fairer man and couldn't help the derisive grunt that issued from his throat.

"Yeah, okay," Rick capitulated, "it's grim. So what? We've faced grim before, right?"

Ardeth wasn't fazed by the wide grin. "Rick, this is serious."

O'Connell started and stared at the Med-jai king.

"What?" the king asked.

"You called me Rick."

"That is your name, is it not?"

"You never call me Rick."

"I am certain I have."

"No. You never have. You always call me 'O'Connell'".

"Perhaps I am tired of 'O'Connell'. And you are changing the subject."

"And what's this 'ahi' thing you've been calling me? That's new, too."

"We were discussing the German."

"Is 'ahi' German?"

"No, it is Arabic. Now, we believe that he will …"

"What's it mean?"

"Brother. Are you listening?"

"I'm hanging on every word. What's it mean?"

"Brother."

"I'll dunk you until you tell me."

Ardeth sighed in exasperation. "Ahi. It means brother."

Rick thought for a moment. "Oh. Who's we?"

The Med-jai made no secret of the fact that he was now totally confused. "We?"

Rick reminded him. "You said 'we believe he will'…"

"Oh, yes." Ardeth shook his head a bit as if to restack his thoughts. "We believe he will not limit his plans to the European continent."

"He. Hitler."

"Yes."

"I don't know, Ardeth. The Americans won't let him get too far before they jump in. It's against their best interests."

"Halim says the Americans will not act until almost the very end."

"And who is Halim?" Having met most of the Med-jai warriors in London, Rick couldn't place the name. Ardeth opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. To anyone else it would have meant nothing more than a glitch in the conversation; perhaps Ardeth was trying to remember if Rick had indeed met the Med-jai in question. But to Rick, alarm bells had begun to ring the second Ardeth failed to speak. In that second, Ardeth was unguarded and Rick accessed his thoughts as easily as he did his own. And what he found out made him furious.

"You were supposed to recuperating!" he yelled. "They were supposed to stay away! You are supposed to be on vacation! On your honeymoon or whatever! When exactly did this council take place? Why didn't you say anything?"

Ardeth began to swim toward shore. "I did not tell you precisely because of this."

Rick grabbed him by the leg and stopped him. "Precisely because of what? Precisely because I happen to care about what happens to you? My God, Ardeth, you almost died! Twice! Just since you've been here! You need time to rest and recover. You don't need to be off consulting with…with… councils about events that haven't happened yet."

"It was imperative I meet with the Med-jai council while I was here. I had been unable to do so until recently. This problem on the Continent will escalate. We needed to make plans. We have done so." Ardeth resumed his swim to the shore.

"And what are those plans? If it's not to much trouble?" Rick demanded as he reluctantly followed.

"We will wait until the trouble directly interferes with our interests," Ardeth told him. "Then we will act in whatever way seems best."

It was Rick's turn to snort. "That's the plan? That's what called you out of recovering and into a Council meeting? You'll wait and see?"

Ardeth had reached a point where he could touch bottom so he planted himself. He had also reached a point where he was no longer tolerant of Rick's castigation and turned on the American.

"Do you think I had a choice when I was asked to attend? Do you think there was any way I could have stayed in bed while my Council was debating impending war? Do you think I **would**? Tell me, O'Connell, would you have me put concerns for myself above concerns for my people?"

"YES!" Rick shouted. Then, after a moment, "But I know you never would. That's what makes it so hard, Ardeth. I know you will always put your people first, and that, my brother, is hell on the rest of us."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun bright meadow was an ideal place to not be seen. The tall grasses and wild flowers that waved in the gentle breeze covered any signs of your passing, as well as hid you from view when you sat down. Alex and Azizah had made the meadow their special place in the time the Bey's had been visiting. It was here they had come on the days after Ardeth's injuries had confined him to bed, and where they had come when he had disappeared. Now it served as a solemn temple for the rite they were about to perform.

They had said nothing of their bond to the adults. They feared their parents wouldn't understand. They didn't understand what was happening fully themselves, but, unlike adults, they were content with simply knowing. However, being children, they still needed something definite, something tangible to hold onto in the long years it would take them to grow up enough to make sense of this mysterious magic that drew them together. So, after thinking long and hard, Alex had come up with this idea, and Azizah, thinking the plan perfectly reasonable, had purloined one of Ardeth's thin daggers.

"It won't hurt, Ziz, I promise. It's just like a scratch."

"I do not believe a scratch will draw enough blood, Alex. We will have to cut deeper."

"But if we cut deeper, our mums will see it."

"I will simply tell them that I was playing with Babu's knife and you took it away," Azizah explained simply, gesturing to the blade Alex held.

"They won't believe that!" Alex argued, fingering the leather scabbard he held.

"They will. It will not be the first time I have picked up weapons to examine."

Alex looked at the younger girl with a new respect shining in his eyes. "Honestly? You've taken weapons out of Uncle Ardeth's arsenal?"

"How will I know how they handle if I do not handle them?" the princess wondered with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

If Alex had had any doubts before now, they were gone in that moment. "Ziz, I love you," he declared plainly.

Azizah looked at him seriously. "It is to be."

Two sets of ancient eyes stared at each other for several long moments; the young bodies housing them sat uncommonly still while souls communed and hearts whispered promises to each other of what the future would bring. Finally, Alex stirred and looked at the lowering sun.

"We ought to get on with it then," he suggested.

"Yes," Azizah agreed.

With the utmost care, Alex removed the elaborately carved, delicately thin, ceremonial dagger from its leather sheath. The sunlight caught the honed edge of the blade and send shards of light dancing off into the tall grass. With a deep breath, he joined Azizah's right hand with his own in a loose warriors clasp, then gently slid the knife between their loose palms.

"Ready?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

Azizah took a deep breath of her own, then nodded.

"On three."

"One"

"Two" Azizah intoned.

"Three!"

In unison, they gave the final count, and, eyes on eyes, the two children squeezed their hands together and Alex pulled on the knife. Bright red blood dripped onto the yellow-green grass between their knees but the neither child so much as flinched. They clenched their hands together with as much strength as they cold and held on, tight. Azizah used her free hand to pull two clean hand towels out from her trouser pocket and set them in her lap.

"How long should we wait?" she wondered.

"I … I'm not sure," Alex admitted. "A couple of minutes?"

"Yes, I think that is wise," Azizah agreed.

The children fell silent again, then, after a while, they pulled their hands apart. Azizah handed Alex a towel then pressed one against her own bleeding palm. Alex had wiped the blood from his hand and was examining the thin, welling cut.

"How did we do?" Azizah asked, pulling off her own towel to examine the mark.

"I guess we learned not to play with knives, didn't we?" Azizah looked up and saw a smile twitching at the corners of her Heart's mouth.

"You were wise to take the blade from me. I am far too young to be fooling with such things," she practiced sagely, her own smile tugging for release.

"Well, we won't do it again, will we, will we Ziz?"

"Oh, no. We have most certainly learned a painful lesson."

Unable to keep up the sobriety of their well rehearsed speeches, the two children broke into helpless giggles.


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue – Homeward Bound**

"We will expect you, then, in three months time?" Ardeth asked, confirming the O'Connell's arrival in Cairo for the third time since leaving the manse.

Rick smiled. "Yeah, three months. Unless there are any unforeseen problems on our end."

"But there won't be," Evy assured the dark Med-jai, taking his arm in a tight hug. "The doctor says I'm fit as a fiddle and everything is going well."

Ardeth pulled the small Englishwoman into his arms. "As I am well relieved to hear. I should be despaired to hear of any problems with the little one or her mother."

"Her?" The parents to be asked in unison, but the Med-jai only smiled and shrugged.

"And our plans," he continued. "We will stay with them, should events progress as foreseen." This time it wasn't a question. The tone was more like that of the king of the Med-jai reminding his subjects of a commitment.

Both O'Connell's nodded. "We will," Evy assured him.

"But we sincerely hope it doesn't come to it," Rick added.

Ardeth put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "As do I, ahi. As do I."

"Well," Evy said casually, extricating herself from the two men, "I'm going to go find Khay and Jonathan and the children. The ice cream shop is just there, so we'll be along shortly." She didn't wait for their acknowledgement, but left them alone, knowing they needed time to say their own goodbyes before the whole group headed for the gangway.

As she walked away, Rick sighed deeply and looked around. He didn't want to meet Ardeth's eyes, not yet. It seemed like only yesterday that his brother had arrived in England, and now he was leaving.

"Rick." Ardeth's voice was soft, barely audible above the noise of the crowded docks. Rick looked up into the dark eyes of this foreign man who had come to mean so much to him in what seemed like a very short time. There he saw good-bye, and regret, and gratitude, and a myriad of other emotions that flickered too quickly to read.

"It's too soon, Ardeth. You can't leave. Not yet."

The Med-jai smiled sadly. "I must go. You know this. I have been away long enough. And there are things that must be done if what Halim has predicted comes to pass." He looked out over the masses of boats to the ocean beyond. "I must return. My people … our people need me."

"Yeah, well," Rick admitted, "I don't have to like it, that's for damn sure."

"No," Ardeth chuckled, "you do not."

Again the men fell into silence, a silence not broken until the clamor of their children's' voices broke the reverie.

"That was bloody amazing! Did you see it, Mum?" Evy's reminder of "Language, Alex" was lost as he continued to talk excitedly. "You should have seen it, Dads, Uncle Ardeth! There was this man on the sidewalk and he was swallowing swords! It was brilliant!"

"Indeed!" Ardeth made himself sound impressed for his heir's sake. "There is a man in the City who can perform similar miracles. Perhaps someday he will show you."

"Wow! Really? Ziz says it's only a trick but I don't see how it could be. It looks too real!"

Azizah snorted but Ardeth paid her no mind. "Well, one never knows," he continued. "Amazing things happen every day."

"Babu…" the young princess began.

"Azizah, I'm afraid we have to say goodbye now." Khay's words managed to put a damper on the groups' mood. She turned to the O'Connell's and embraced them each. "I will miss you so much!" she admitted tearfully. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Evy beamed at her former secretary and now dear friend. "You would have managed beautifully. You are a tremendously brave and resourceful woman and I will miss you, too."

Ardeth, too, embraced Evy and said his goodbye. Then he knelt down and hugged Alex, whispering a few words into his ear. Lastly, he embraced Rick and the two held each other very tightly for a moment. Azizah's strident demands to be picked up interrupted them and it was several more moments before the farewells were well and truly said.

"We will cable you when we arrive in Cairo," Ardeth promised as the Bey's walked toward the gangway.

"And we'll let you know the exact date we're arriving as soon as make the arrangements!" Rick yelled back. The O'Connell's waved until the new family was out of sight within the ship. Then they waited and waved more as the Bey's stood at the railing, the ship wending its way out of the quay. For a long time after the ship was out of sight, Rick stood, watching the horizon. His thoughts followed the huge vessel as it took his brother eastward, away from him, again. And he wondered about the prophet Ardeth spoke of who foresaw terrible times looming in the not so distant future. How would he be able to protect his family from a burgeoning war? He thought of the child Evy carried. How would he keep his wife and baby safe should that war come to England? And Ardeth. How would Ardeth and his small group of Med-jai warriors be able to defend an entire country from the armies of destruction that Halim foretold?

_Together._

Rick heard the word as clearly as if Ardeth was standing next to him.

_We do it together, my brother. For we are no longer two halves searching, but one whole. And we have the strength of the Med-jai in our veins and arms, and fighting beside us. We will overcome the struggles ahead. Do not lose heart, ahi, but stay strong._

Rick smiled into the breeze that brushed his face with Ardeth's words.

_Together, _he affirmed. _God speed, my brother. And Allah be with you, until we meet again._

Then he turned his face to his family, and, taking his wife and son by the hands, he turned his back on the sea, and headed home, knowing that he would see his brother again, and that their lives would forever be entwined. He was Med-jai. And that meant he was never alone.


End file.
